


Freeing the Winter Knight

by mitsukai613



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: Dub/non-con, F/M, M/M, Porn With Plot, Winter Knight Harry, dark fic with a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-19
Packaged: 2018-01-10 19:44:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitsukai613/pseuds/mitsukai613
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mab is making use of Harry's services as her Knight in every way she can think of, meaning using he and his body to get more supernatural heavy hitters on her team instead of Titania's. John is the only person from Harry's old life that Harry isn't able to keep the knowledge of how bad things have actually gotten from, since he's a Baron, and John can't stand seeing Harry hurt so much, so he begins working to free him. It's a struggle for both of them, and in the end it's Lea who truly saves the day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, this is a lot darker than any other fic I've ever written, but it's something I wanted to play with and I feel like it turned out alright, especially since I did get to end it on a relatively happy note. Please heed the warning in the tags, because this could be interpreted as potential dub or non-con. I'll post one chapter of this every Wednesday from now on, since it's already all written.

                Mab was having a party, but then, she almost always was. She liked parties because they gave her an opportunity to show me off. I’d never known just how big of a legend I was in Fairy before I became the Winter Knight. Hell, nearly every time someone saw me on Mab’s arm, at her feet, behind her chair, they’d give her their congratulations on taming the fire magus, ask for a full coverage story on how she’d done it, and she’d always simply laughed, winked conspiratorially at me, said it had been quite the challenge, that I’d fought hard. I didn’t like the parties nearly as much as Mab, honestly, but then we didn’t like many of the same things. This party was a little different, though. This party was being used as an elaborate way to pay back a debt Mab owed the Erlking. I’d be given to him for the evening, to use as he saw fit. She’d lent me out enough by now that I knew what that meant: she was giving the Erlking permission to fuck me, and he’d do it, too. There weren’t many beings in Fairy that wouldn’t take up an offer like that. Once again, though, I was getting used to that, even though I didn’t want to admit I was, even though I hated myself even more for it, because it made Mab laugh gleefully and give me that sick little smile of hers. This party was also different because Baron Marcone was invited.

                I hadn’t seen him much, since becoming the Winter Knight full time. I spent most of my hours in Fairy, running various errands for Mab and escaping the traps she laid for me. The only actual contact with each other we’d had in a pretty long time was at Accords meetings, and even then we didn’t spare much more than a polite hello for one another. Still, he was a part of my old life, and a pretty big one. I no more wanted him to see just how far I’d fallen, just how much a pet of Winter I’d become, than I did Murphy or Thomas or Michael or Molly. He’d be ashamed of me, then, just like they would be. There was a decent chance of him coming to despise me more than he probably already did, or of him losing what little respect he may have once had for me. I didn’t want that. I didn’t have a choice, though. My life wasn’t really my own anymore. The only thing I truly had was my sense of self, that one thing Mab could never really take away, the core of me. I shook my head and entered my room, where I found clothing for the party lain out for me, as always.

                They were a set of robes done in white and frozen blue that, in certain lights, became purple or pale green or really any other cold color. They were made of fine silk, soft and painfully sensual against my skin. I hooked my sword around my hips, and settled my pentacle on top of the robes, where it shimmered happily. My blasting rod hung from a strap in the sleeve similar to the one I’d once had in my duster. Mab had started putting one into all of my clothes, as some horrible, too-little too-late kindness. I’d have brought my staff too, if not for the fact that such a thing could be seen as an open act of aggression, as too much to be simply a precaution, like my sword was. I waited in my room until Grimalkin came and fetched me, dragged me off to one of Mab’s high class ballrooms. Icicles, artfully hung on the ceiling, glimmered with fairy-light, and a fire I knew wasn’t actually producing heat burned in the hearth. Mab sat on an ice throne, Maeve beside her, dressed beautifully in blue, her white hair styled perfectly atop her head. Maeve, as always, was the vision of a punk-rock goddess, white hair dyed into a rainbow, clothing artfully tattered, with slits and cuts in places that would make her indecent in most mortal venues. Mab smiled at me and gestured for me to come over. I passed Marcone on the way and made it a point not to look at him.

                Mab had me kneel at her feet when I got there, and pressed her hand to the back of my head to force me to look down at the ground. Her booming voice filled the room suddenly.

                “Welcome, mine honored guests! As I am certain thou all know, I have called this party so that I might repay a debt to mine companion, the Erlking. Please, sir Erlking, do come up here so that I might present mine gift to thee.” I saw the Erlking, decked out in his usual furs and his helmet decorated with antlers, step up to kneel beside me before the Queen of Air and Darkness. Mab smiled.

                “Mighty Erlking, I ask that thou stand before me, for you, of all beings, deserve to be on equal ground with me and mine. Winter Knight, I ask that thou stand as well.” She tugged my hair slightly, then moved her hand to allow me to stand, which I did. The Erlking towered over me frighteningly, too large to be mortal, to be anything but a powerful Fay. “Erlking, ruler of the goblins, of countless Wyldfay, I gift to thee my Knight, Harry Blackstone Copperfield Dresden, Wizard of the White Council, Mage of the fires of Soul and Hell, to use as you see fit for the remainder of this evening. Dost mine gift please thee?” He inclined his head, red eyes shimmering brightly, completely feral. I felt countless burning gazes digging into my back.

                “Indeed, oh Queen of the Air and the Darkness, Mighty Huntress, such a gift pleases me greatly, and is certainly enough to repay the debt thou owe me.” She nodded, a smile curling her frozen raspberry lips.

                “Then please, take him back to your table. You may divest him of his weaponry or his… other garb as you like.” I stared at the ground as the Erlking settled one large hand on the back of my neck, not really threatening but so obviously there that I went where he directed me, sat where he wished me to sit. My blasting rod was slipped from my sleeve discreetly and tucked away into one of the countless crevices in the Erlking’s thick armor. I was, however, allowed to keep my blade, which I was grateful for, and I guessed he was being a lot more polite than a lot of things Mab allowed to use me. He wasn’t even having me sit on his lap, or at his feet, which really was a first. I got a chair beside him. I supposed that was due to the fact that he did have some respect for me as a hunter, had since I caught him in my circle that first time. I was actually thinking I might get out of the party completely painlessly, when Marcone came up to the table, because he is apparently the biggest asshole in the universe. The Erlking gave him a nod in greeting, his hand moving to settle over my shoulders. It was heavy with muscle, and almost painful to support.

                “Sir Erlking,” Marcone said by way of greeting, respectful in all forms.

                “Baron Marcone,” the Erlking returned, and I felt his thick, gloved fingers slide beneath the neck of the robe, teasing along my collar bone and shoulder. I hadn’t blushed over something like that in a pretty long time, but damn it, Marcone was standing right there, green eyes fixed on the movement of the Erlking’s hand. The robe was slipped down my shoulder to bare half my chest and give him easier access. The fingers slipped up my neck and caressed my jugular reverently. I swallowed convulsively, because my body had been used, trained, to respond to little things like that, to be a hell of a lot more sensitive than it had been before I became the Winter Knight. Mab had a philosophy: don’t ever let yourself feel pain, but when pleasure is offered, feel it freely and intensely. “Shall I ask what it is thou wishes for?”

                “Merely to ask about the… situation that appears to have brought this party about in the first place,” he said, raising an eyebrow at me. I looked away, staring intently down at my plate even though I wasn’t eating. The Erlking’s hand moved down, pressed more firmly when he got to my ribs and again slid his hand under my robe to run it over my stomach. He used his free hand to remove his helm, apparently deciding that this evening was to be one of comfort rather than formality. Some people Mab gave me to for this purpose just fucked me for political reasons, to get ahead, to make Mab happy and make use of my power. I didn’t get much out of those times, honestly. Others became deeply imbedded in the pleasure of it, did it because it felt good and generally attempted to make sure I got my pleasure in return for giving them theirs. It seemed the Erlking would be one of those, although chances were I’d have to fight him tooth and nail for it. Hell’s Bells, I wouldn’t be shocked if he had me attempt to run away so he could get the pleasure of catching me. Beings like him, the most fun part was the hunt. He could’ve counted whatever favor it was he’d done for Mab to get this as the hunt, though. Really, I’d never claimed to understand how the Erlking worked. He’s one of the oldest Fay out there, second in power pretty much to just the Queens themselves, and their closest handmaidens.

                “There is little to tell of it, oh brave mortal Baron. To the Winter Queen I sent troops to resolve an Accords matter. To repay her debt to me she has gifted me the use of her mighty Knight, the wizardling, for an evening. It is a common enough boon, for the Fay Queens, though I must say that it has become rather more common for Mab, now that he is her Knight, for he has gained quite a name in the supernatural realm, for his strength and defiance. I should hope that he still has it, after his time spent in this Court, and I should say he does, from the way he so glares at me! That was what interested me in him in the first place, along with his brazen disrespect of me, of course.” I flashed a toothy smile at him, for a second, but his hand slid back up and tweaked my nipple and I was forced to clench my teeth so I didn’t let out a sound I’d never, ever want anyone I knew from the mortal world to hear. Marcone just kept staring, unnerving in his intensity. I did my best to keep looking away from the both of them, even though whatever the Erlking’s gloves were made of felt really, really good, and if Marcone hadn’t been there, by now I’d probably be pressing into it, trying to get more. Open-mindedness was, honestly, probably the best thing I’d gotten out of this gig.

                “I… see,” Marcone said, and then the fucker took a seat in front of us. The Erlking laughed, deep and throbbing and tumbling and strong to match his strangely attractive, asymmetrical face. “Sir Erlking, may I ask for a moment alone with Mr. Dresden?” He never had gotten out of the habit of calling me that, no matter the title I had at the moment. It was sort of nice, honestly, reminded me of times when things were a hell of a lot easier, and I was my own man, not the property of Mab and Lea and the Erlking and anyone else who Mab felt deserved a piece of me. The Erlking raised one heavy brow, and removed his hand with nearly painful slowness.

                “I do not see any reason why that would be harmful. I’ll have his attentions for the rest of the evening. I do not suppose it would cause any trouble for me to allow him to acknowledge a connection to his old world. Ten minutes,” he said, and stood with powerful grace, swept across the room towards a secluded corner, only to be mostly swamped by a crowd of lesser Fay, most of whom I recognized as common sycophants who’d cling to whoever’s coattails they conceivably could.

                “What do you want, Marcone?” I hissed, unable to bring myself to show him respect even now. It made me feel human again, to piss him off, to step on everything he felt he deserved. He didn’t react, this time, and that made me uncomfortable. Or, even more uncomfortable I guess. I was still blushing cherry red, my chest almost too cold, the silk feeling unspeakably amazing against me.

                “How many times has she had you give your body away?” he asked, voice conspiratorially low, as if he thought what he was talking about was some big, dirty secret, as though the innuendo in what Mab had said, what the Erlking was now doing, went unnoticed by everyone but him. I raised my eyebrows, because even as the Winter Knight I couldn’t seem to get the hang of just one.

                “You don’t have to whisper about it, everyone knows. I’ve fucked with half this room, if you want me to be honest about it, and the half I haven’t prefers to have sex with things that aren’t male. The Fay like sex, Marcone. It’s a common payment, as well as a way to move up the respect ladder.” He continued to stare, his arms crossed. This was the first time I’d ever seen him look out of place. He dressed in his usual high dollar suit, but it was far too modern for this party, and nowhere near as revealing as what most were in.

                “That is not an answer to my question.” I rolled my eyes, and did my best to act how I knew he was expecting even though I didn’t exactly feel up to it.

                “I don’t keep count of who my Queen asks me to service. A lot, I guess. I do this every few weeks or so, depending.” He looked a little surprised, for a second, but he fixed that pretty quick.

                “’Service?’ Call it what it is, Harry. She has you raped for no good damned reason,” he hissed, and I sighed.

                “Marcone, don’t do this right now. You are in Queen Mab’s domain, under her hospitality. It’s her word that’s keeping you breathing. If you say something to piss her off, she’ll revoke it, and there won’t be anything I can do about it without getting myself punished, which I’d rather avoid until it becomes a necessity. Also, you don’t know all that much about the fairy courts. Consent is a mortal issue anyway, and even if it wasn’t it isn’t rape. I’m not exactly a full person anymore, by any definition of the law. I’m my Queen’s, to use as she sees fit. Besides, it isn’t like I hate it anyway. It feels good. I don’t get to feel good all that often.” Marcone grabbed my wrist and _squeezed,_ hard enough I felt my bone shift under my skin. I let out a tiny hiss, but he didn’t loosen his grip.

                “What you are allowing them to do to you is disgusting,” he snarled, face twisted into something not-him, some parody of himself. That made me flinch. He dropped my wrist and swept off into the crowd, and then the Erlking was back. He swiped a thumb under my eye and it came back wet. Huh. I hadn’t known I’d been crying.

                “Little one,” he whispered, “I am sorry. I suppose I should not have granted the mortal Baron the courtesy of privacy.” I shook my head.

                “Don’t worry about the scumbag. He’s just…” I couldn’t quite think of what John Marcone was, but I didn’t have to, because the Erlking pulled me into a kiss, and yeah, I could work with that. He tasted crisp, like harsh rain, and in his kiss I could feel the thrill of chase, of capture, of _being_ captured, and his hands slid around to unclip my sword and settle on my hips. Sometime during the kiss, I was shifted and settled onto his lap. No one even looked; stuff like this was so common. Hell, I’d once seen a couple go at it right on the middle of the table, and everyone had just pulled their food a little closer to themselves. My robe was pulled from my other shoulder, down to my hips and then completely off. I could hear Mab’s soft laugh, feel the Erlking’s smile against my mouth when he discovered I’d forgone underwear and was already a little more than halfway to hard. I could feel his own hardness press against me, and that was when I noticed that someone was staring at me. I pulled away from the Erlking’s lips to catch my breath and used the opportunity to glance around the room. A pair of green eyes was fixed on the two of us.

                “Ignore him, little one, this time is mine,” the Erlking whispered in my ear, before he nipped the lobe with sharp animal teeth. I gasped, and pressed myself into his belly, the soft furs contrasting with the solid metal. “Let us give him a show, yes? For making you cry.” My eyes were lidded, and I’ll admit that I probably wasn’t thinking too clearly at that particular moment, so I nodded, and his obscenely large hands shifted up to my chest to tease at my nipples again, until they were pebbled up and red and painfully sensitive and I’d never known that could feel so _good_ until I’d become the Winter Knight. Once again, open-mindedness is the one perk of this job. “What do you wish me to do, little wizard?” For the first time, I felt dwarfed, outclassed, outsized, outweighed, and it was wonderful, good, amazing, grand.

                “Wanna touch your dick,” I mumbled, back pressed against the table. He let out that laugh again, and reached down to undo the complicated ties of his pants and pull himself out and yeah, that was proportionate alright. A little big, actually. Fuck. I groaned, and he smiled, taking us both in hand and twisting once, twice, probably to show me how he liked it, before he took my own hand and put it around us. He’d gotten all the way around. I could barely get half. I let out a soft whine, but I couldn’t get into it, not how I usually could, not with those eyes digging into my spine. Damn it, I’d known the mortals I knew wouldn’t like what I was doing, but he’d called me disgusting, and if he thought that then god, I didn’t want to know what I’d be to my friends. I dropped my head into the Erlking’s chest, and he ran soothing hands up and down my back as I jerked us both off. It felt intimate, really, even though the room was full.

I laved more attention on him than myself, as had become something of a habit, and pressed my thumb against the slit, working the pre-come there around, down the head, twisting my fingers just underneath it. He, apparently deciding to give what he got, trailed his hand down my chest, scratched and scraped, left thin, barely there red lines even through his gloves. He grabbed one nipple and twisted, rolled it between two fingers, and my eyes went lidded as I continued my own work, now including my other hand so I could get all the way around us both. I slid them up and down as fluidly as I could, my own hips thrusting up into the grip without care, and I was getting close, so close with his teasing, my own grip. He pulled my hand free just before I could come.

                “Such a good boy,” the Erlking whispered, “I don’t want the fun to end so fast. Perhaps I’ll keep you hard and wanting all night, little one. I wonder how much you can stand, sensitive as you are. I wonder… I’d like to taste you, young hunter, my prey. Will you allow it?” This was… weird. I wasn’t used to the ones Mab let have me asking if this was okay, or if they could do that, they just did it. I’d have thought the Erlking would be the same. I nodded anyway, and he smiled, fierce and bright. He turned me on his lap and moved the plates out of the way, then hauled me up so my upper body was supported by the table and my ass was up in the air. This also put me face to face with Marcone, who had slid to the front of the milling, chatting crowd, who wasn’t speaking to anyone, who was just staring at us with those tiger’s eyes of his. I had to close my own and turn my face towards the white tablecloth. I knew what was coming, but I still jerked at the first touch of the Erlking’s tongue to my ass, groaned when it wriggled inside.

                It was a solid, wet pressure inside me, deeper than a human could go, thicker, wider. Fuck… this always felt so… dirty, at first, no matter who was doing it to me, no matter how good it felt. Still, I had to jerk back into the slick intrusion, whimpering softly when it curled, going deep but nowhere near deep enough, nowhere near enough to truly fill me, satisfy me. My arms shook, and I quickly gave up supporting myself as the tongue slid in deeper, instead allowing the table and the Erlking to hold up my entire weight. My breathe was coming heavily, and his tongue dabbed at my prostate, not nearly hard enough, and I whined and jerked back into the intrusion. He slid his tongue out and nipped at the rim of my hole, maybe meant to be a punishment, but instead it just made me close my eyes and moan noisily, wantonly, in a way I never would have before I took the mantle. Slowly, slowly, the Erlking was distracting me from the dark, green gaze that was still fixed on me. He lifted his head and patted my hip and I whimpered, jerked back to try and get his mouth back on me.

                “Come on, come on, come on, please,” I managed, and he just laughed. I felt a nip on my ass and squeaked. His teeth were a hell of a lot sharper than I’d thought from his previous nibble. They felt like needles, thin and pointed. He bit again, beside the first place, and again and again. “Put your tongue back in me, it was good, please.” The Erlking licked a stripe up my back then blew on it, the chill making me shudder. My cock ached where it was trapped between my belly and the table; at least until the Erlking lifted my hips a little higher, to improve the angle as he slid his tongue back inside me. He thrust it in and out for what felt like hours, gently jabbing my prostate with always too little strength, not enough power, but I was getting steadily closer to my peak the longer he worked at me, and god, but he worked at me tirelessly. Just before I fell over the edge, though, one of his hands gripped the base of my dick tightly, stopping my orgasm in its tracks. His tongue slid out. I whimpered.

                “You don’t come until I do, little wizard.” Fucking fuck. I could usually get around this, tease them, seduce them into coming faster so I could, but with the Erlking, I was pretty sure that wouldn’t work. I tried anyway, wiggled my ass at him, and arched my back in a way I knew the Fay liked. The Erlking laughed again. “My, what a show you’re putting on! The others are getting quite interested, you know. Perhaps they’re envious of me, what do you think? The Baron who brought you to tears has yet to take his eyes off you, little minx. You’ve never been decorous, you know, but this behavior has far exceeded my expectations. Still, your little displays will not entice me to speed up in my actions before I am prepared to do so.” I managed a chuckle as the Erlking once again shifted me, this time so he could slip one enormous finger inside me. It was at least as big as two human fingers, probably a little more, and longer too, and Stars and Stones, I’d never felt anything like this, not ever, not with anyone my Queen had allowed to have me. I keened, my back bowing from pleasure rather than for show.

                “Figured as much,” I managed to choke out, “Had to try anyway.” He released his rumbling chuckle, far calmer than I’d have liked, and carefully crooked the finger, stretching me more and studiously avoiding stimulating my prostate, certainly afraid that I’d be unable to control myself and come. Which, honestly, was probably a good fear. Another finger slid in beside the first, and he scissored them out almost immediately. By now I was crying a little, my eyes wet and hazy, but not hazy enough that I lost sight of Marcone, who had actually come closer to the table, separated from the milling, chatting crowd and joining the small audience that had formed, the Fay that were getting off on us, working at themselves or each other in time with whatever the Erlking was doing to me. Marcone never touched himself, though, and I couldn’t even tell if he was hard or not, from here. Maybe he just wanted a closer view of the heinous, disgusting act, of the ‘noble’ wizard he once knew being reduced to a sex toy. I choked again, and a few tears fell that weren’t quite from pleasure. As if he could tell the difference, the Erlking wiped my eyes. The sweet gesture so contrasted with the roughness of his exterior, of his actions, that I had to smile and loosen myself some more, so he could work in the third finger.

                “You are lovely even in your tears, dear child, but I do not wish to see them this night.” The stretch was starting to hurt, now, to burn, as he exceeded what I had grown used to, got into the sort of bulk that no humans and few Fay could conceivably possess. “I’ve far more at my disposal in my own domain, you know. A nice ring instead of my fingers, I think, would serve far better, and yet I’d hate to deprive our audience of their happy ending. Later, I suppose, we have all evening. You’d look beautiful in my collar, instead of Winter’s mantle. I wonder, do you think your Queen would accept a challenge from me, for your service? I’d so love to have you, always would have. I’d have gladly taken you, had you gone to me rather than Queen Mab. It’s likely my own fault, though. I should have made my offers clearer. Mortals truly can be quite dense.” I could hardly make sense of half the words he spoke, as he allowed me a few sharp bursts of pleasure from my prostate, to keep me from hurting as he stretched the fingers wide, wider than I’d thought my body could go. I did recognize Mab’s laugh pretty quickly, though, easily heard her voice through the din.

                “Oh, Mighty Erlking, I always welcome a challenge from thee. Your might is that of legend, you understand. Any time you wish it, I’d battle thee for mine Knight’s service.” I could almost picture her smug face, her legs crossed daintily at the ankle, her head perched up on one single, small hand as her golden cat eyes watched the Erlking and I. My hips shifted back and forth onto the fingers, fucking myself onto them as hard as I could manage and the Erlking would allow. I wanted, suddenly, to taste him, to suck him down my throat and I let loose with a noisy, throaty, animalistic groan. The Erlking finally released one to match, and I felt him stretch up in his seat, felt his bulk settle over me carefully, and then he bit down on the nape of my neck, held me where I was, let his fingers slide free.

I could imagine his eyes, red and glowing with fire, the fire I so missed, the fire that reminded me of the time before I’d become the Winter Knight. Flame burned hot enough in him to knock the Winter chill from my flesh and bones, heat my blood back from sub-human temperatures, make my face flush darkly, give the rest of my skin a pale pinkish glow. He thrust into me in one quick move, the stretch painful, far too much of him entering me at once, and I screamed. Tears beaded at the corner of my eyes again, and I hiccupped once, twice, a few more times. The teeth on my neck stayed poised, digging in just enough that I could feel it but not enough that it hurt. The feeling of it almost made me come, but he squeezed tighter around my cock, and once more it was stopped. I hissed, and tried to move against him, but he held me still.

                He just sat there in me for the longest time, I guess letting me get used to him, but all I wanted was for him to move, to do something, to give me anything.

                “Well? Are you going to ask me, or would you prefer to stay this way, young one?” he whispered, dropping his hold on my neck only long enough to speak before he resumed it. So he wanted me to beg, of course. I pressed my head into my forearm to hide my face, to keep myself quiet enough that only he could hear me.

                “Please, please move, I need it. I need you to fuck me hard, I need to come, please,” I whined, and felt his tongue lap where his teeth had been, before he settled the needlepoints back again. He started moving, so incredibly slowly that I could hardly tell at first, but as soon as all that was left in me was the head he slammed back in, striking my prostate dead on. I let out another scream, this one louder, and it cracked in the middle and turned quiet as my voice died. I felt like I’d been impaled, stabbed through right up to my throat, but it was good enough that I didn’t care, the ache of fullness mixing seamlessly with endless, heady pleasure. I could hardly breathe, and my fingers clenched spasmodically in the clean white tablecloth. The Erlking moved me how he wanted me, his animal teeth a constant presence on my neck, and I clenched and loosened around him periodically, not entirely of my own consent. He struck my prostate every time, each time he fucked into me, and finally I felt the burn where he hadn’t used slick or spit or anything to ease the way but I didn’t care, because this was the good hurt, the nice hurt, the hurt that translated through some part of my brain as pleasure. The Erlking’s jaw clenched suddenly, drew blood from the nape of my neck, blood that he licked up even as he came into me, the hot liquid warming me from the inside out. He shuddered.

                “Such a good boy you are, dearest,” he mumbled, licking my ear and loosening his grip on the base of my dick. It only took three strokes before I was coming on the table, arching up into him, thrashing and writhing and whining. He worked me through it, though, milking me until I was done and limp in the afterglow before he slid out of me and settled back into his chair, pulling me with him to curl into his chest. I tiredly nuzzled his chest to the sound of the ones who’d been watching finishing, and allowed myself a small glance. Many of them were now lying on the floor, spent, and a few had gotten into groups of two or more to finish one another off. Marcone, though, still stood slightly separate and alone, fully clothed. He noticed me looking right away, and swept forward, closer, until he was right in front of the table. His hands slammed down onto the crumpled bit of the tablecloth where my chest had been, narrowly missing my come. The Erlking gently rubbed my neck and back, my hips, my ass. I raised my eyebrows tiredly at Marcone; felt the Erlking’s come dribbling out of my ass, dripping down my thighs to stain his pants.

                “Are you quite done?” he growled, but he was looking at the Erlking now instead of me. I felt the rumble of the Goblin Lord’s laugh, and leaned further into him, completely sated, wanting nothing more than to go to sleep where I sat.

                “For the moment, yes. I believe he will need some time to recuperate before I have him again.” Marcone’s eyes narrowed and I wondered why he was so upset. He’d already told me what he thought of this, so I didn’t much see why he needed to tell me again.

                “How many more times could you possibly need to use him that way?” he hissed. The Erlking laughed again as my eyes listed shut. His steady breathing, and his low, too-slow heartbeat, were stupidly relaxing.

                “You simply do not understand Fairy politics yet, Baron Marcone. An evening with the Winter Knight is not something one should pass up. I’ve long wanted him in my bed, before he even took up the mantle, and now I have the opportunity. I also have authorization from the Winter Queen herself to request a challenge for his permanent service. If I fail in this challenge, however, I should like to say that I made as much use of him as I could, without killing him, mind. Besides, Baron, you quite enjoyed his performance, did you not? Enough to spend yourself in your trousers, without a touch.” Huh? What was… what was the Erlking talking about? Marcone had been disgusted by all of this, like I’d been in the beginning. He wouldn’t have. I forced my eyes open again to gaze over at the man, and yes, I could see a dark stain on the front of his pants, but maybe it was… maybe he’d spilled something there. I wasn’t aware enough to bother thinking of it beyond that.

                “Killing him? It seems you’ve come close already, just look at him!” He sounded upset. Why did he sound upset? I’d done this before, and I’d be doing it again by the end of the night, probably more than once. I let my hands clench in the furs covering his chest, and he shifted me some, so that he supported all my weight and I could go totally limp, pliant, without falling to the hard, unforgiving stone floor beneath me.

                “He’s fine, Baron, merely sated and tired. From what I have heard, he has looked far worse than this after a round with some of the Fay less kind than myself.” That was true. Some of them were… kinkier than Maeve, which was really saying something, considering all the weird shit she liked, when she had me. Liked causing pain more than Mab, liked to cut at me because they knew I’d always heal immediately. I tried to ignore those times and remember the ones that been boring, or the ones that had felt good, like what the Erlking and I had just done. Marcone was still glaring at the Lord of the Hunt as he bent down, carefully avoiding jostling me, to place his helm back onto his head. The antlers stretched back, long and curved, graceful.

                “Give him to me, Erlking,” he hissed, and I fluttered my eyes open, looked at him, and yawned. He didn’t spare me a glance, apparently too busy being an idiot and giving orders to one of the most powerful things in Fairy. It seemed I’d put him into a good temper, though, because he just chuckled warmly.

                “Baron Marcone, please, if thou wish to have your turn at him, then go do a favor for his Lady. Do not try to steal mine own reward.” Despite his chuckle, he’d slipped back into proper speech, obviously in an attempt to dismiss the other man. Marcone only laughed, cold and hard. Determined for reasons I didn’t know or understand. Why did he want me, if he thought I was disgusting now? Maybe to take me out of the picture for good. Maybe he thought me weak, now that I was finally conquered by something, someone. I could show him, though. I had a mastery of two elements, now, had the power of Winter in my blood.

                “I do not wish to _rape_ him, as you all have been doing. Were I to ever have him in my bed, I’d like it to be willing on both of our parts.” I could feel the Erlking shift.

                “I do not, perhaps, have quite the understanding that you do of mortal concepts such as rape. I am, however, rather sure that it only occurs when one or both parties is unwilling, and often ends in the victim feeling frightened of the attacker. He does not seem frightened of me, does he, Baron?” Marcone crossed his arms tersely over his chest, spared a glance for me. I curled up against the warmth of the Erlking’s fur as Winter’s chill tried to pierce through me yet again. I’d have dressed if I thought it would help, but I knew that any clothing Mab, or Lea, or Maeve, or the Winter Mother, or any other Winter Sidhe, for that matter, gave me would only cool me further.

                “He is being coerced. Queen Mab would injure him, if he refused to do this, and I cannot imagine he’d be willing to sleep with so many people, much less any that would choose to do him harm. From my knowledge, he’d only slept with three women, prior to this debacle.” I finally decided I’d have to step in, derail Train Marcone before he got himself killed, or worse.

                “I told you already, Marcone. This isn’t rape, it’s service. It’s repaying a debt. It’s following the orders of my Queen, and they hurt a hell of a lot less than some of the shit she pulls on me. Stop freaking out. If you want your turn with the disgusting wizard, you can perform a favor and have Mab’s sloppy four hundredths.” My piece said, I dropped my head back against the Erlking’s chest. He shifted me and settled me on the table, though, pushed me down and had me go spread eagle so he could clean me up. Marcone watched it all with wide green eyes. “You’d sure as hell not be the worst one I’ve had, Marcone.” He looked sick.

                “Harry, don’t speak that way, please. You are not disgusting.” I looked away as the Erlking helped me stand, my ass sore and throbbing, and pulled my silken robe back on. My hair was getting long again, I realized, too long. It hung down to my shoulders again, longer when it was wet, and it’d be inconvenient in a fight. Mab liked me to keep it like this, though, and Maeve too. It gave them something to pull on.

                “Don’t call me that,” I grunted, settling back on the Erlking’s lap when he pulled me there. “And you said yourself that I was, earlier.” He turned his glare to me.

                “I said no such thing. I said that what you were allowing them to do to you was disgusting. That you were allowing them to pollute you like this.” I laughed, and it came out more bitter than I’d been going for.

                “There’s nothing left to pollute, Marcone. Nothing. I belong to Winter. I have ever since Mab mounted me on that table for everyone in Fairy to see. All I’ve got left is the core of myself, my will. Everything else belongs to Mab. I’m hers, blood and bone. That’s what I swore and I keep my promises.” He slammed a fist down on the table, and I jumped a little. His eyes were blazing like a forest fire, bright under his lashes, his salt and pepper hair getting a little messy, a little out of place.

                “You could have come to me, Harry. You could have been mine. Am I truly such an awful choice compared to this?” He waved an all-encompassing hand as the Erlking looked on curiously. I cocked my head and managed a smile, one like the one I’ve always shown him, sarcastic and taunting.

                “Nope, but you couldn’t fix a broken back for me, buddy. Mab could, and Mab did, so I’m hers.” His rage died, a little, but not enough to really be too noticeable.

                “Broken back?” I nodded.

                “You never heard? Well, never mind, you probably wouldn’t have. When my apartment burned, I tried to rescue two of my neighbors, even though my leg was fucked up. I fell off the ladder and broke my back. Apparently I’m lucky it didn’t kill me, from what I’ve heard, but still. I tried the only other option first, and he couldn’t do anything for me, so I called Mab and accepted her offer. She’s wanted me here for years, so I knew she’d be willing to take me, damaged goods though I was, and still am.” The laugh he released was nearly as bitter as mine.

                “He died doing the right thing, correct?” I grinned.

                “Yeah, except I didn’t. Too bad, huh? All that thought, all the planning Bianca had to have put into that. So sad. But, hey, I’ve still got a shot. I’ve still got one more death to die. Maybe the next one will stick, but who knows? Uriel could decide to be a dick about it.” Marcone ran a hand through his hair, and looked away.

                “Hold on, Harry, please. A few weeks longer. I had no idea how terrible it had gotten for you, but I swear I will get you out of this.” And then he left, because he’s good at leaving at terrible times. He’d get me out of this? What the hell did he even mean? My Knighthood? Was he planning on killing me again or something? Christ, but he’s obnoxious. But he’d looked so _sad,_ and he’d seemed to sincerely want what was good for me and I stopped myself right there, because Stars, no. I couldn’t think like that. There was no way for me to get out of this, and there wasn’t really a pressing need to. Mab hadn’t ever done anything all that terrible to me, not really. She’d been pretty nice about it, at least in Fay senses of the word. Plus I’d gotten a power-up from Winter, one I could use to keep my friends, my city, safe. I was perfectly okay with my position, and I’d gotten myself into it anyway, so I couldn’t complain. I was fine. I curled up into the Erlking’s warm chest, fighting against the frozen silk against my skin, against Mab’s harshly melodious icy laugh. I was grateful when the Erlking finally left the party with me, brought me to his domain, to the warmth of his bed and his fire and his body. Really, this act brought me the only warmth I was able to keep.              


	2. Chapter 2

                Those ‘few weeks’ Marcone had been talking about came and went, along with the season. Spring was settling in rapidly, and Mab was beginning to lose some of the power she’d had during winter, me along with her. Summer seemed to be plotting against her, against all of Winter, as she always was, especially now that I, her enemy, had become Winter’s Knight. Mab wanted to secure her power base, get more allies with more power on her side, to protect herself through the sweltering summer, through Titania’s period of power. The Erlking had been fine, for a start, but even he wasn’t tough enough to stand against Titania at her strongest. We’d need more. Mab decided on Donar Vadderung, the current incarnation of the semi-retired god, Odin the All-Father. She told me what she was planning early one morning, when the sun was only just rising above Arctis Tor and it’d be unlikely for Titania to be able to listen in.

                “The All-Father respects thee, mine Knight. If thou request it, he shall assist me in mine struggle to keep Titania in check. Thou will, of course, need an excuse to enter his domain. Here, a letter of request for his help. I have already ordered a meeting with him. Deliver this, and know that I have offered thou body in recompense. If he requests thee, give thou self over to him.” I nodded, and took the letter with a small, courtly bow.

                “Of course.” And then I left through a Way, drifting easily down a snowy path to Vadderung’s offices at Monoc Securities. 

* * *

 

                It was still chilly there, despite the impending summer, but the cool breeze could hardly be recognized by me, at this point. I entered the building, climbed into the elevator, and pressed the button that would lead me up to his offices. I straightened my clothes and my back, neatened my hair as best I could, even though it was getting almost unmanageably long now. I wondered if Mab would allow me a vacation to Chicago to get it cut. I wondered if I could stop by Mac’s for a beer. I wondered if I could go break one of Marcone’s buildings, for old time’s sake. I wondered if I could pay a visit to Murphy, to Michael, to the Alphas. I closed my eyes and shook my head. I wasn’t allowed that anymore. It’d only hurt everyone involved, unmentionably so. Sometimes I almost wished I could’ve let them keep thinking I was dead. I stepped into his office and displayed the letter with Mab’s seal to the two doll-like secretaries, and waited for them to wave me forward before I even so much as took a step. They were dangerous, the both of them. I’d once seen them tear a Sidhe lord to shreds without so much as breaking a sweat. I could probably take them down, yeah, but it’d be a pointless fight, one that would result in me getting injured terribly, and Mab had taken to getting a lot rougher with her healing. Plus I didn’t feel like getting my ass kicked today. It’d been a whole week since I’d gotten gravely injured, which was pretty much a new record. I was on a roll, really. Hell’s Bells, but that was depressing. I opened Vadderung’s door and stepped inside. He spared me a jovial smile, beard thick but neat, patch over one eye. I bowed. He laughed.

                “My, what a change you’ve undertaken! I remember your first visit here yet, you know, where your disrespect was rather blatant. Has Winter tamed your fire?” I shook my head and allowed a sharp grin to split my face. I liked Vadderung. He was easy to deal with, compared to most things of his power, so long as his hospitality was accepted and not taken advantage of. He liked his visitor’s happy, and I liked being happy.

                “Like that could ever happen. My will is my own, and it always will be, no matter what Queen Mab does.” And that was true. I’d proven it often enough, through my run as the Winter Knight. There had been many orders Mab had given that I refused to carry out, for one reason or another, and I took every punishment for disobeying that Mab could dish out. It had hurt like hell every time, and the mere memories sent sparks of phantom pain zipping through me, because if there was one thing the Sidhe knew, it was torture. Still, if there’s one thing I know, it’s how to take torture. He laughed again, and I stepped forward. “A letter from my Queen, Sir Vadderung.” I handed him the letter with a flourish, and he took it just as theatrically.

                “Thank you, Knight.” He popped Winter’s seal with ease, and quickly read the letter over.

                “They’ve still not dealt with the power imbalance you caused, eh? You know, I generally make it a point to ally with Summer, but Queen Mab’s offer is… tempting, to say the least of it. Having you as her Knight has truly allowed her to expand her horizons, has it not?” I smirked.

                “What can I say? I’m good bargaining material, what with all the supernatural heavy weights I’ve pissed off.” He hummed.

                “Perhaps, after my many moons, it is time for me to change my allegiance. I’ll take your Queen’s offer, little Knight. Come,” he said, quirking a finger towards me, and I moved towards him, keeping my walk easy and slow. I’d gotten even more practice at this, recently, much of it from the Erlking, who had been making it a point to perform many favors for Winter that were good enough to get me as a repayment. He’d also been spending a hell of a lot of time preparing for that challenge of his, which was set to take place in a week’s time. Still, now wasn’t the time to focus on that. Vadderung spread his legs to create a place for me to settle in, and I took the position easily enough, having long grown used to it. I wondered how badly my younger self would be freaking out about this and laughed into Vadderung’s neck as he began to unbutton my shirt. He threw it over towards a couch, and started to press kisses to my jaw, his beard scraping at my neck in a way I wouldn’t have thought would feel as amazing as it did. His hands pressed into my thighs, massaging in large, gentle circles, and my hips shifted slowly, lazily.

                This felt so easy, honestly, like it were just a natural every day thing. It had to be something about Vadderung, because it wasn’t normally like this. It had to be something unique, special about him, maybe something to do with his status as a mostly retired god. Now wasn’t really the time to worry about that, though. His hands slid around to kneed my ass as I stretched up to kiss him. It really was odd, to suddenly not be the largest guy in the room. I hadn’t realized how important that had once been, until I suddenly wasn’t anymore.

                “You really want to do this here?” I asked softly against his lips, my eyes lidded and heavy, almost tired. He hummed, and patted where he’d been rubbing, a soft slap that I jerked back into and nearly tumbled off of his lap as a result of.

                “Yes, Harry, that is what I would prefer. I’d like you to suck me. I shall return the favor shortly, if you please me sufficiently.” I licked my lips at the thought of his mouth on me, hot and wet and strong, and nodded, wiggling down, to settle on the floor between his legs. He shifted us around so I was crouched in the darkness beneath his desk. I snickered quietly and moved forward, unzipped his suit pants, and slipped his underwear out of the way. He was half-hard and enormous in my hands, almost too much to manage. He settled his hands in my hair, fingers twining into it tightly. I could see him filling out before my eyes, at my touch, and I leaned forward to lap at the head teasingly, swirl my tongue around. He growled softly, and jerked his hips up to force himself into my mouth. I choked, for a second, gagging, but he stayed where he was, pressed into the back of my throat, until I settled down, remembered to breathe through my nose. I wrapped my hands around the parts of him I couldn’t choke down if my life depended on it, which amounted to about half of him. I swirled my tongue around him, and pressed the flat of it into a vein I felt at the bottom. He hissed, and I whined around him. His fingers twitched and tugged at my hair harshly.

                I got into a rhythm quickly enough, my head bobbing in time to the twisting of my hands, to the steady jerks of his fingers in my hair. It seemed like hours went by, in that dark little space beneath his desk, where the entire world seemed to have been reduced to me and him, to the pleasure I could give him, and he me in return. It was soft and warm and comfortable, and that was really the best I could hope for, recently. I wasn’t plagued by ice chips in my veins, by frozen wind and the pain of a cold blade dipping beneath my skin, slicing through muscle and vein and tendon and now was not the time to think about that, at all. I sucked hard, once, hard enough that my cheeks hollowed out, to emphasize the thought. Vadderung appreciated it, and showed that appreciation with a low, rumbling groan that was somewhere just above sub-audible. That was when his office door opened and the illusion of being in a bubble far from the rest of the universe shattered. I tried to pull away, but his hand on the back of my head held me where I was. He shifted his hips to tell me to keep doing what I was doing, so I did. Right then, it wasn’t my place to disobey him. I still tried to pull away again when I heard the voice of the man who’d entered the room, though.

                “Mr. Vadderung,” Marcone said, his tone clear and sharp, maybe with a touch of worry and frustration hiding under the polite veneer of business. Vadderung grunted, although whether it was in response to Marcone or me, I don’t know.

                “Hello, Mr. Marcone. I must say, your visits have been growing rather frequent.” I heard a chair scrape across the ground in front of me as Marcone took a seat.

                “Yes, well, you are my associate. I make it a point to visit my associates, especially when they seem incapable of doing something that I’ve asked of them.” Oh, shit. Marcone was blatantly, if politely, insulting a motherfucking _god_ in his own damned office. Even I wasn’t usually that crazy. I wanted to speak up, to shut him up before Donar smote him, even if I wasn’t quite sure why I did, even though my mouth was full of something entirely different at the moment. I choked and drooled around him as he tried to go in a little deeper than I could take. I swallowed convulsively and his hand tensed, pulled out what was probably a decent sized clump of my hair. Good. Maybe Mab would see why I needed it cut now. It was a liability. Vadderung broke out into a deep belly laugh that seemed almost loud enough to shake the walls.

                “You are an interesting mortal, Mr. Marcone, and rather lucky that I like you. Now, what is it that you’ve requested that I’ve not done for you?” I accidently made some terribly obscene noise as I slurped around Vadderung’s cock, which he thankfully covered with a well-placed cough. If I had to guess, though, I’d say Marcone probably looked suspicious anyway.

                “I asked you to find a way to get him out, Mr. Vadderung, and I asked you to do it almost six months ago.” Vadderung sighed. I wondered what Marcone was talking about. Get who out? Had one of his men got put into prison or something? Whatever. I palmed my own dick through my clothes and whimpered as quietly as I could. Vadderung swatted my shoulder softly in warning.

                “You asked me to look, and I have been looking, but the position he has entered, of his own free will, mind, is one that only one man has escaped, and Queen Mab has taken measures to prevent his method from working again. I have sought the answer you seek, my friend, but I fear it does not exist.” Huh? Marcone was here about… me? That was… huh. I’d figured he’d just been saying that to give me false hope or something, but he’d actually been looking. Weird. I sucked thoughtfully, twisted my fingers around him harshly, cupped and rolled his balls once I worked his pants and underwear off and down his legs. I heard Marcone slam his fists into the desk hard enough that it shook.

                “There must be a way, Mr. Vadderung! I will not accept that there isn’t.” Vadderung hid a groan under a sigh. I snickered softly around him.

                “I have heard that the king of Goblins, the Erlking, seeks to free him as well, although only to bind him to himself. In a week’s time, he plans to challenge Queen Mab to a duel of sorts, for his service. If he is the victor, then there are ways in which you could set him free. If he is the loser, then there is nothing that can be done to break his ties to Winter.” His hand tensed and twitched spasmodically, and he came in my mouth without warning. I was unable to prevent coughing and choking as I swallowed it, which, of course, alerted Marcone to the fact that Vadderung had someone under his desk. He sighed and wiggled his clothes back on, tucked himself back into his pants.

                “You knew I’d be coming, Vadderung. Could your… companion not have waited until our business was done?” I peeked up and saw Vadderung’s shoulders shift in a shrug.

                “I did not know my ‘companion’ was coming by this day, and really, who am I to refuse a pretty piece when it is offered to me so sweetly?” I felt something in the air change, as I realized that Vadderung had left the letter from Mab, the one with her seal, opened on his desk when we’d begun. Oh, Hell’s Bells. Marcone had to have seen it. Stars and fucking Stones. One of Vadderung’s giant hands grabbed at the back of my hair and yanked me up and out, revealing me as the companion in question. I couldn’t manage to look Marcone in the eyes, scared of what I’d see staring back at me. Whore. Useless. Weak. I’d been done with those words for a long time. I didn’t want to see them reflected back at me through cool money eyes, eyes I’d long admired, eyes whose owner I’d grown to respect, and even like, some days. I licked my lips and tasted come, felt some on my cheeks that had narrowly avoided going in my eye, some on my forehead, probably some in my hair. I was still shamefully hard. Marcone strode forward suddenly and grabbed my wrist, his neatly trimmed fingernails digging deeply into the skin. I still couldn’t look at him.

                “How dare you,” he growled, and I was about to speak, to do my damndest to make a joke, when I realized he was talking to Vadderung. “How dare you do this to him, take advantage of him when he hasn’t got a choice?” Donar laughed again. I once more licked my lips absentmindedly.

                “He got on his knees for me willingly enough, Mr. Marcone, in exchange for my support of his Queen. Although, from the look in your eyes, perhaps I’d best let him explain it.” Marcone’s fingers tensed periodically, made my bones grind together some, but it hardly hurt. His hand was warm, nearly hot against my skin.

                “Marcone, I came here today knowing I’d be doing this. I go to every meeting my Queen arranges with at least a pretty good feeling that I’ll be doing this. I’m good at it, Marcone, and there are a lot of things out there that want to put me on my knees. I’m a good reward and a good bargaining chip. I need you to remember something, Marcone, something I thought you’d have figured out by now, since I explained it after that first time with the Erlking.”

                “What?” he growled, his eyes blazing bright.

                “I became the property of Winter the moment Mab had me on the stone table. I am Winter’s, blood and bone, until the day I die. My body isn’t mine. All I own is my will.” He stared up at me.

                “Then say no.” I smirked.

                “Why would I say no to the only thing that feels good?” He smacked me, and then jerked me down and slammed his lips against mine desperately. The kiss was wet, all teeth, and surprising. It was hard to surprise me, lately. Marcone had always been good at it, though, good at shocking me back to life when I thought I was going numb. He pulled away, and actually looked afraid, somehow, maybe of what I’d say or do. I licked my lips again, to break the thin chain of saliva and come that had connected us. He was shaking.

                “I’m sorry,” he said, low and sudden and hardly audible. “I’m sorry. Harry, I swear to you I’ll find a way to get you out of this. I swear.” And the more he said it, the more assured he sounded. He turned around and swept easily out of the room, his footsteps still heavy and steady. Vadderung laughed.

                “Well, wasn’t that interesting? I should have offered to let him join this evening’s proceedings, but I suppose it’s a bit late now. Please, go lock the door, little one. I’d rather we not have any more interruptions.” I did as he asked, and then he led me to sit on the wide, soft leather couch. He removed the clothing I had left with practiced ease, but kept his own on, beyond once more baring his dick. I understood that, understood how it gave one partner a feeling of power while the other was left more vulnerable. I could work with that just as well as anything else, so I spread my legs out for him. He laughed, crouched down between them, and took me into his mouth. I gasped, and jerked up into it before I had a chance to control myself, then worked hard to settle back down. I finally managed it after he gave me a few harsh sucks, one of his arms draped heavily over my hips to keep me still. I still twitched and jerked some in his grasp, but not to get away, just to get closer. I’d been telling the truth when I’d said that this was pretty much all I could have that felt good, anymore.

                I couldn’t curl up with a good book; Mouse pressed into my legs, Mister sprawled over my thighs. I couldn’t go out to IHOP with Murphy. I couldn’t play Dungeons and Dragons with the Alphas. I couldn’t just walk up and down Chicago’s streets; pass by familiar buildings and over familiar sidewalks and touch familiar trees just because I felt like it. I couldn’t eat dinner with Michael and Charity and their houseful of kids. Everything I once loved to do was out of my reach now, because I was Winter. I was property. I was what I’d once sworn to never, ever be again. Subservient. A tool. A thing, a belonging, an object. Nothing. The pure sensation from this, from warm bodies and pleasure and lust, it made me forget that. It made me feel nice and almost happy and warm where nothing else could. Stars and Stones, I needed to stop thinking.

                The hair of his face scraped at my thighs, and I could feel my breath come heavy and thick in my throat; cause my chest to heave uncontrollably, and myself to pant. His free hand teased my balls before they dipped lower, down to my opening, and slipped inside without much trouble. I’d learned enough to relax during this, at this point. His finger was thicker than most, though, just like the rest of him, that same, nigh on inhuman largeness that unnerved everyone that met him, although I knew that in whatever form was actually natural to him, he’d be world-size, big enough to fill up the entire universe. Really, he was extending me a pretty big pleasantry by staying in the form he was in now. I hadn’t always been that lucky, really, but I sort of blocked those memories away. Mab told me, sometimes, that I blocked too much, that I’d go insane, but I’ve done it my whole life. I don’t think now’s going to be the time when my psyche finally gives in and implodes on itself. Although, I’m pretty much broken anyway. I don’t know why it would matter anymore.

                He slid another finger in and stretched me wide until I cried out, at which point he compensated by sucking harder on my cock. I felt my legs shaking even though they weren’t supporting me. The leather was sticking to my back. My throat was thick, and I couldn’t swallow, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, my arms lay limply at my sides. I heard something hit the door, then heard footsteps stomping away. I realized I’d screamed, shortly before that, and now Vadderung chuckled around me and pulled away as a third finger began to stretch me with the other two. He really was being pleasant about this, although I assumed it had something or another to do with hospitality and politeness. I was a gift, and it was rude to return a gift broken.

                “It seems Mr. Marcone was listening. I suppose he doesn’t enjoy the sound of your pleasure, my boy, at least not when it’s gifted to you by me,” he began, then paused to twist his fingers roughly and stab them into the place that made me keen. I was at least aware of it this time, I guessed. His fingers were removed with a suddenness that made me gasp, and he picked up my legs, slinging them over his shoulders. I felt a blunt pressure at my entrance, solid and big, too big, oh god, this part right here was always the worst, waiting on the edge, expecting pain even though it usually wasn’t even all that bad, as long as I was expecting it, as long as I was stretched, as long as I’d been taken pretty recently before it happened. I heard him spit on his hand and slick himself up, and I hadn’t, then I felt him start to slip inside. It burned and ached, because spit wasn’t ever enough, but it was a good pain, a pain that would wake me up and make me feel human again. When he was all the way inside, he paused, allowed me to adjust, hulked over me. His stomach was tight. He was holding himself back, I realized, trying to make it good for me too. I always appreciated that, so I gave him a smile and clenched around him experimentally. He gasped sharply, air rushing coldly into his lungs. I relaxed myself, and smiled again.

                “Go ahead, I’m good,” I told him. He pulled out and fucked back in, stabbing into that place, going deep, deep, too deep, until I almost felt him in the back of my throat. My fingers clawed and scrabbled at the couch, my body forced up every time he went in, but god, it was good, it was so good, it was all I had. He bared his teeth in an animal snarl, his one blue-gray eye sparking with a fierce light, and suddenly I saw him as how he used to be, battle hungry and wild, leading an army, a vast, scarred, powerful army into a fight they knew they’d win, because they had their god, the All-Father, on their side.

                When he came in me, it was with a roar, and I felt the inhumanness, the power, behind it. His come felt almost painfully hot within me, and it made me come too, with a few quick jerks to my dick. He slumped down on top of me as he softened and slid out, a solid, comfortable weight. I allowed my legs to drop. His breath was soft on my throat, and he gave it a lick almost absentmindedly. I laughed, and he rolled off, his body tight and the skin I could see sheening. I stood up and gathered my clothes, my lower back and ass aching miserably. Still, Mab would likely heal me as soon as I got back.

                “Well, that was a rather pleasurable addition to my day,” he said, grinning wolfishly, draping himself lazily over the couch and staring at me as I dressed. I snorted.

                “Probably better than anything else I’ll get today. It’s gonna be a pain to fix my ass though, you dick,” I said with a grin I didn’t quite feel. He laughed back at me.

                “I’m afraid I’m more proud than chastised at that, Knight.” I sighed.

                “Figured as much. Mab is planning on calling a meeting for all her allies in about a month’s time, so be ready for that letter. I’ll see you around.” He nodded.

                “Indeed. Do be careful, Harry, I believe you’ll be far too much fun later on, for you to die now. Look after yourself, and tread lightly around Mr. Marcone from now on. If he happens to walk in on you in such a situation again, I do not like to think of what he may do.” I sighed.

                “He’s just pissed I gave in to someone else, after he’s been after me to work for him for years. I figured that’d happen as soon as I took Mab’s deal. He’ll get over it.” Vadderung didn’t look as sure as I opened up a portal to the Nevernever right there in his office and left.

* * *

        

                A week later, the Erlking lost the challenge, and I suddenly discovered just how much I’d been hoping he’d win, how much I’d been hoping he’d be able to get me free from Mab. She gave me to him for a week, as a consolation prize, and when he returned me, I could hardly move. He’d been pissed off, because he hated losing. He was the predator, not the prey, but Mab was bigger, Mab was the Queen of the jungle, and he could hardly take it. Of course, Mab had also cheated, but cheating wasn’t ever against the rules. In fact, half the time it was encouraged. You don’t have to be stronger to win; you just have to be able to work around the set constraints. Mab was an expert at that. The Erlking played in fair arenas, and hated the idea of cheaters winning. He may have taken it out on me, a little, but I was used to that much, because I was Mab’s, and the best way to annoy her is to damage her property.

                She spent about an hour or so healing me once I arrived back home, but she left an ache in me, a deep, throbbing ache, because testing me was fun, I guess, because she always liked to make sure I wasn’t going soft, that I could still do my job injured. Lea held her hand to my cheek softly, and if I didn’t know better, I’d have called her eyes sad, just then, in my bedroom. She kissed my cheek with frozen mulberry lips, her breath a chill breeze against me.

                “Godson, I never wanted you this way,” she whispered, “I never wanted your wings clipped, just as I never wanted your mother’s clipped. Safety, that is all I desired, for the both of you. I could provide it for neither. There is another who wants to do what I could not, however,” she began, before she stretched up slightly to whisper in my ear, “I cannot save you myself, dear godson, but I will tell him how.” I couldn’t help but flinch, a little.

                “I can’t be saved. I am Winter’s, blood and bone, until I die. Are you going to have someone kill me?” She smiled, but didn’t speak, instead simply walked out of my room. I collapsed like a ragdoll on my bed. I wondered if I was bad, for hoping that maybe she had taken a hit out on me. God, but I was tired. I just wanted to go… not here. Somewhere else. I wondered if Mab would let me go back to Chicago for a few days. I knew I couldn’t see anyone, knew I couldn’t face them, after what I’d done, but I… I thought the familiar streets would do me a world of good. I… I just… Christ. I closed my eyes, clenched them tightly shut because I didn’t want to see anything anymore. This bed was too soft. Everything was too rich, too fancy. I wanted my old apartment back. I wanted my duster back. I wanted the Blue Beetle back. I wanted my life back. I learned a long time ago that what I want doesn’t matter. I realized I was crying. I hadn’t even known that I still could. I laughed into the silence, laughed until my body forced me into sleep. I dreamt of Chicago and tiger eyes. Somewhere, I couldn’t help but think that maybe someone was crying with me.


	3. Chapter 3

                Mab had been getting a lot of use out of me, she couldn’t deny that. I hurt, miserably so, I hurt, I hurt, I hurt all over. I stared down at the bandages around my wrists, stark white, cold, because it wouldn’t do for someone to see rope burns on the Winter Knight’s wrists. Mab had told me that last night, in the bed we sometimes shared whenever she happened to feel like, and I remembered how I’d said once that I was no sex toy. I wondered when that had changed so much. I didn’t feel like making jokes, that day, and I didn’t feel like fighting. I didn’t feel like doing much. I thought about what Lea always talked about, about what Marcone always talked about, about freedom. It was a silly, stupid idea, but I’d taken to it anyway. I imagined how awesome it would be to leave Winter, never come back, and go to Burger King. A Whopper would be like the sweetest ambrosia, now. I scratched my head and stared at the suit, a new one, and didn’t particularly want to put it on, but I figured I didn’t have much of a choice. There was another meeting. There was always another meeting for me to attend, another party for me to police, another rail for me to grease. I hardly ever slept anymore, but honestly that was partially my decision. I hated the dreams.

                I tugged the suit on slowly; careful around the bruises on my hips, the scratches down my back and chest because Mab never healed the marks she left. They marked me as hers, I knew that. No matter how many people she threw me at, no matter what marks they left, they’d always fade while hers remained. I’d always come limping back to her for healing and food and life but never love. I wondered who I went to for love and when I found that I couldn’t name anyone I laughed and laughed. At least, I supposed, this meeting was in Chicago, so I simply took a step through my closet and found myself there. A breeze, one that should’ve been cool, caressed my face warmly. It was almost fall. A few weeks and I’d be having my one year anniversary.

                I walked slowly and the familiar streets did me a world of good in a few moments. I didn’t recognize anyone on the street as I walked, and they didn’t recognize me. That was somehow comforting, although I wasn’t totally certain of the reasoning. A smile spread across my lips and the world felt easy and kind for the first time in a long time. The office building where the meeting would be held, procured courtesy of John Marcone, loomed not too far away, and I climbed the stairs as slowly as I could without seeming like I was stalling. I fingered the letter in my pocket, traced the seal with practiced ease, and opened the boardroom door. The man who needed the letter was sitting with his feet propped up on the table, and that made me laugh under my breath. Kincaid never had actually had a sense of propriety. The way Marcone was glaring at him was hilarious, too, and it only grew even more so when I plucked the letter from my pocket and dropped it on his lap as I walked by. Kincaid just looked confused, until the letter was ripped open and read, at which point he grinned. Marcone tensed his fists and I rolled my eyes at him.

                “Winter Knight,” Kincaid called, and I bent forward to glance at him from my own seat. I fought to keep from smirking because Marcone’s cheeks were turning a truly fascinating shade of reddish purple in his anger. I still didn’t know how he’d managed to hold a grudge for this long, but pissing him off with stuff like this had been quickly becoming one of my few real pleasures.

                “Yes, Hellhound?” I addressed him by his real title just because.

                “The Erlking has given his loyalty to your queen. Why is she questioning mine?” I yawned.

                “You currently have no holdings with the Lord of the Hunt; your allegiance lies with the one paying you, currently Ivy the Archive. Ivy is strictly neutral in court, so who you ally with is, at the moment, entirely your choice. My queen merely wishes your choice to be her. The power is still imbalanced, and Summer still roils. You’d be a valuable asset.”  He nodded, almost thoughtful, as I spouted off the words Mab had told me a hundred times before.

                “Does everyone get this welcoming package?” I shrugged.

                “It’s common enough, I guess. It’s something a lot of people would like to have. Still, my queen informed me that if you’d rather have one of her mortals or lesser handmaidens, you may have them. You may also request that my service be rendered to you in a different way.” He shook his head.

                “No, this is a good deal. Your queen has my allegiance the second I get my payment. I’ve got a hotel room, and Ivy will be with the Carpenters for the rest of the day. We’ll go after this meeting, Harry.” I nodded and smirked.

                “Sure thing, Kincaid.” And we knew each other, we were friends. I couldn’t help but think that that would make all of this easier. Before now, I may have been sent to a few people that I knew, but no friends. No one I would want to go out and have a beer with. All mostly anonymous. This would be a good break. Although, it was a bit of a shock that he wanted this particular service. I’d have never guessed it of him, really. Marcone cleared his throat.

                “Mr. Kincaid, I would appreciate a quick word with you before the meeting begins.” Oh, Hell’s Bells. Hell’s _Bells,_ this was dumb. Poor Kincaid, goddamn. Or, really, poor Marcone, if he happened to piss Kincaid off too much. Kincaid shrugged and stood, and I snuck after them when they left the room, Listened to them speak through the door.

                “What is it, Marcone?” I heard his sigh.

                “Must you do this? He said that this ‘payment’ could be given in other ways. Other women or men, if you desired a bedmate that badly.” There was a tired quality to his voice, a desperation I didn’t expect. Stars, I hadn’t actually thought that maybe this would be really bothering him. I’d sort of seen it as something of a game, like calling him by his first name. Egging him on with a tiny thing, something that wasn’t a big deal. He seemed to see it as a pretty big deal.

                “Damn, you actually understood what we were talking about? Weird, most mortals don’t get it. Anyway, Marcone, I don’t think that’s going to be possible. I never thought I’d get that scrawny motherfucker in bed with me; I’m not going to pass up the chance. Hell, I show him a good enough time, I might get a little more out of it. He and Karrin would look good together, with me.” Oh. Well. Damn. I would’ve never guessed that he actually _wanted…_ me. Or maybe he just wanted to piss Johnny off too. That was always a possibility.

                “I have come across Mab’s method of bargaining before, yes. Twice, actually.” He cleared his throat of an imaginary obstruction again. “I do not like that he is being coerced into it, and would prefer not to imagine that someone who he considers a friend would be so willing to take advantage of that fact.” God, but he was strange, and I simply had no idea why he actually gave a damn about all this. I supposed it had something to do with him kissing me, when I was with Vadderung, but I had a hard time believing that he’d go quite this far just because he wanted me for himself. Everything suggested that he felt something more than what he’d always seemed to feel. Everything suggested that he had some kind of feelings for me. I didn’t want to consider that, so I didn’t. I just kept listening.

                “He’s got all the right in the world to tell me no, Marcone, and the Winter strength to back it up. He could kick my ass all the way across town now, if he wanted. Mab doesn’t keep weaklings; he’s tough. Besides, if I had to guess, we’re not all buddy-buddy anymore. The Mantle changes people, and he’s had it for nearly a year. Maybe longer, if you count the time he was dead and the time he was in South America.” I heard a crash and a snarl.

                “He is the same man he always was, merely with his back against a damned wall, and you are not doing a damned thing to give him room to maneuver! Apparently no one but me actually fucking wants him freed! Everyone else is too damned fascinated by the fact that he has to obey somebody now, by the fact that his ass is up for grabs to whoever his _queen_ wants to have it!” I heard them both breathing heavily, and then the shift of fabric as Marcone stepped away from where he’d apparently shoved Kincaid. Kincaid laughed.

                “You love him, don’t you? I wouldn’t, if I were you. It’s a bad idea; he belongs to Mab, now. I smell her all over him. She had him last night, if I had to guess.” I closed my eyes and shuddered. Last night. This morning. Forever. Was there any difference anymore? My body ached to remind me of all she’d done. She was too much. She always had been. A force of nature, immovable, unstoppable, and I was hers, blood and bone.

                “I will love who I choose, and I will see him set free.” Kincaid laughed.

                “I’d like to see it done; he’s interesting, and there aren’t enough interesting people left in this world. I’d like to see him live. I’m not going to hold my breath, though, and I’m going to take what I can of him before there’s nothing left. There’s still some fight in him, but it won’t last long, the way things seem to be going. Mab’s draining him fast, getting all the use she can out of him. The way it stands, he’ll be the shortest lived Winter Knight anyone’s ever seen, and the most useful and influential to boot. He’s fixed a lot in his run; Mab will give him a good burial before she goes after his apprentice, or Raith.” The words made me cold for their truth.

                I wasn’t… I’d been getting steadily worse, if I’m honest, been feeling steadily more terrible as time went by. Lea had been telling me as much quite often, warning me of the fleeting nature of my life. I wasn’t willing to give up the core of myself, and because of that, the job was killing me. Honestly, one of the only things that was making me want to hold on was the risk of Mab going after my important people. I whipped away from the door as their conversation came to a close and returned to my seat. I didn’t look at either of them when they came back, although I did stare at my hands and deeply consider the fact that somehow John Marcone thought he was in love with me. That might’ve been the dumbest thing I’d ever heard.

                I went through the meeting entirely on autopilot, doing my damndest to input things that would be important to Mab, things she’d want me to say, and every now and then I felt her presence in my head, quiet and teasing, harsh when I said something wrong, soothing when I said something right. Marcone watched me with eyes that seemed to see all of that, seemed to know and to understand all that Mab murmured. Kincaid left pretty fast when the meeting was done, and I tried to follow, but Marcone stopped me.

                “I was visited by a fairy, recently, one who called herself the Leansidhe. She told me of a way to set you free, but I need you to-“ I cut him off with a hand. I shook my head at him, the best smile I could manage just then on my face.

                “Don’t trust anything Lea told you. She’s… she’s a little psychotic on the best of days, I should know. She’s my godmother. I know she’s trying to help me, and you are too, but I’m beyond help. This is one job I’m never going to be able to quit.” I tried to pull away but his hand tightened, and even if I could’ve pulled away, even if my training with Mab had made me stronger, I didn’t. I didn’t want to hurt him.

                “You’re dying.” It wasn’t a question. He looked devastated. I looked away from him.

                “Everyone is. I’m just… I don’t want this to change me, but it is. I feel horrible things around the people I love, I feel like I want to hurt them. I hate that, John; I hate what I’m turning into. I am the Winter Knight. Harry Dresden isn’t… I don’t know how much longer he’s going to be around. The Mantle is alive; the person who wears it is a set piece, interchangeable, pointless. The person doesn’t mean shit.” He shook his head.

                “You mean everything. Please, go with me instead of Kincaid. One evening, that’s all I’m asking of you, and I can do something that will free you.” I yanked my arm free and left. I wasn’t going to sit there and listen to false, pointless promises.

* * *

 

                Kincaid met me at the base of the building and led me away, led me to a high class hotel room. When we got inside, there were crayons and Prisma Color markers strewn about on the ugly patterned carpet, sketches covering the floor. There was one of me, a lot of Kincaid, one or two of Marcone, and a lot of random scribbles of color that were at least as good as the majority of modern art that I’d ever seen.

                “She misses you,” Kincaid murmured as he shoved me into a wall and buried his face into the crook of my neck, nipped and licked mindlessly. I laughed and settled both of my hands on his shoulders.

                “I miss her too. I miss Chicago. Hell, Kincaid, if you caught me on a bad day I’d even say I missed you, bastard.” He yanked at the suit jacket desperately and I helped him pull it off of me, then went and messed around with his belt buckle. He ignored all of my attempts to strip him and kept stripping me, but that was honestly expected. I finally managed to get the buckle undone and pull his shirt off. Carnal energy spiraled around me, a thick mess I’d never be able to untangle. I kicked my pants and my underwear across the room and he shimmied out of his jeans. The rough wall scraped my back. His teeth were too sharp.

                “Don’t ruin the mood, Dresden.”

                “Wouldn’t dream of it, mutt.” He spun us around and shoved me down onto my knees. I looked up at him with a sharp smirk on my face, my features certainly drawn tightly, my muscles loose and easy. The hotel room heater buzzed and fizzled for a second before it sputtered off and Kincaid laughed.

                “I ain’t fucking paying for that. Goddamn, Dresden, but you look nice down there. Never thought I’d see you get on your knees for anyone.” I snickered.

                “I like it, actually. I always knew I did, for women. The men thing has been a pretty recent development.” His fingers traced over the scratch marks on my back and I hissed and shuddered. The wounds were cold, and when touched, new splinters of ice dug deep into them, burrowed under my skin.

                “Bet she loves it,” he sighed, and then his hand rose to the back of my head and shoved my mouth down. The shock of it made me gag, but I got it straight pretty quick. “You know he followed us, don’t you? I wonder if he’s outside yet. Wonder if he hears you.” I laughed around his dick and settled my hands on his hips to steady myself. His fingers tightened in my hair and he drooped against the wall. I slid my head off for a second and let a wash of cool air brush over him. He twitched.

                “Why should I care? It’s his business if he wants to listen to this. I couldn’t care less, and he’s seen me get fucked twice already. He’s got pretty shitty luck.” I brought my head back down and sucked hard, the weight of it heavy and thick in my mouth, the taste sharp and distinctive. It allowed me to focus solely on this, to the world right here rather than the world outside, the world where Marcone was forever a factor.

                “Sounds like damn good luck to me,” he said, somehow reclining against the wall, lazy hands still curled in my hair. “You need a fucking haircut.” I snorted around him and he let loose a low, rumbling animal’s groan. The flat of my tongue pressed against the bottom, and I gently scraped my teeth over the top, the phantom of a bite. I slid my hands down to his thighs and felt muscle there tense and tighten. Apparently I was doing well for him. I grinned around him and slid my mouth away again. He growled, and when I looked up at his eyes, they were hardly human.

                “I know. Mab likes it like this, though. I’m not allowed.” He bared his teeth.

                “If you don’t do something productive with that fucking mouth of yours I’ll rip it out for her.” I smiled, crooked and easy.

                “You know she’ll be upset if you damage me. I’m her favorite toy.” He stopped, for a second, and suddenly he looked like the overconfident asshole I knew, the man I’d trusted to take my life when I hadn’t wanted it anymore, the man I considered a friend. It almost made tears bead in my eyes, but not quite. I sure as hell wasn’t letting anyone see me cry.

                “Funny how kids always seem to break the toys they like the most, isn’t it?” he whispered, and one of the hands moved down to cup my cheek. “Fuck, Dresden. You can’t keep… don’t give her the satisfaction of breaking you. You’ve lived through too damned much to go out like this. She can’t have what you don’t give her, Dresden, you know that.” I closed my eyes and sighed and smiled, a real smile, soft and surprising on my face.

                “I’m changing, Kincaid, by degrees. The mantle doesn’t care about the human, it never has. It just wants the body. Given enough time, I’ll be as bad as Slate, probably worse. I can’t let that happen. I can’t. I’d rather die before that happens.” Kincaid laughed, a sharp sound, almost bitter, and then he pulled my hair once, harshly.

                “You’d rather go out with a bang huh, Dresden? Of course. Just fucking like you. I’ve already killed you once. Looks like I’m going to help do it again.” And then he forced my head back down onto him and it was all animal once again. It wouldn’t be good for either of us to do this with any kind of emotion, any kind of regret. We used to be friends, before I became Winter. We used to be. We weren’t anymore. I was just a vassal of Winter, now, and he a possible ally to it. That’s all this was. That’s all this would ever be anymore. I sucked hard enough that my cheeks hollowed out and his knees nearly gave way, but he stayed upright, although he didn’t look so relaxed against the wall anymore. I did it again and he curled in on himself, curled in over me, and his hands went tight around my hair, as if it were the only thing keeping him here, keeping him alive. His growl was wild in my ear. He came in my mouth and I choked on it a little as he pulled me away and more got on my face. His chest was heaving. “ _Damn_ it, Dresden. Fucking… fucking Marcone made me… this is… shit.”

                He put a hand on the center of my chest and shoved me hard into the ground, hovered over me almost threateningly. His teeth were bared. His hands were shaking. He looked almost like he was fighting himself. His hand cupped my dick so lightly I could hardly feel it, and his head dropped onto my chest.

                “You gonna get on with it any time soon, Kincaid?” He shook his head.

                “Shut up, Dresden, or I won’t be able to say what I need to say.” I sighed and gestured for him to go on even though I just wanted him to do whatever it was that he wanted to do. “Leave if you want to. Don’t stay because you feel like you have to. Tell me if you really want to be here of if you’re just scared of Mab. Tell me, Dresden.” He wanted the truth. He wanted… he wanted to know if I wanted this? This was weird. This was strange. This had never happened. I opened my mouth and I was about to tell him that I wanted him as my friend again, that I wanted to leave, that yeah, I was here because Mab was a scary bitch and she’d do awful, horrible things to me if I disobeyed. I wanted to tell him that while the sex was probably a lot less painful than a lot of the things she had me do, it still hurt, especially when it was with someone I knew. It still ached that someone I called my friend would see me weak and broken and not even my own. But then I felt the mantle leave me. I felt the numbness creep up my legs, the knowledge that I wouldn’t be able to move them if I tried. I felt the combined agony of all the injuries she’d healed, at least those above my waist, the throb of my once burned hand, and I knew I couldn’t say that. I knew I had to let this go on.

                “It’s fine,” I said, and the mantle’s power flooded back. I felt my legs again. The hurts faded. Kincaid pinned me down and slammed his lips against mine roughly, his teeth digging into my bottom lip. I closed my eyes and relaxed because at least this was better than what Mab would do to me if I ran. At least I could take comfort in the fact that Kincaid wouldn’t hurt me, that despite the façade he’d been trying to pull up, he really did have some form of affection for me. At least this was warm, and I missed being warm. I shut my eyes and went limp beneath him.

                He tore his lips away and moved to my neck, chewed and nipped and bit red marks on my skin, little marks that hardly meant anything anymore. The tiny sparks of pain were followed by jabs of pleasure, so I writhed and groaned, and his mouth moved to my chest, to suck at my nipples, and his fingers trailed down my stomach. The ticklish sensation made the muscle there tense up and my back arch, made me force my chest up closer to him in an attempt to get my belly away. He curled his fingers and scraped his nails over the skin, left thin red lines of his own to correspond with Mab’s. She’d heal them when I got back, I knew, them and the bites on my neck.

                My hands flew up to grab his hair, to clutch it in my fingers as tightly as I could, and it was oddly soft. His eyes stayed fixed on mine, eyes of brilliant blue. I swallowed. I knew this man. This was the man who never missed a shot he took. This was the man who dated my best friend, the man who gave her a gun in a box of chocolates. This was the man who’d granted me a mercy killing. This was a man I called friend. Hell’s Bells. I recalled once that Murphy had told me how good he could be, in bed and out, how kind, how amicably they’d ended their fling. She told me that he did casual like no one’s business. That always had been her main problem with me, beyond the lying; I couldn’t do casual over morning coffee. I missed Murphy. I missed everyone. I missed _living._ Kincaid bit my stomach and I lost what I was thinking in the tangled moan that fell from my lips.

                His mouth moved down farther, towards where I was certain I needed it most, and people putting their mouth on me was actually really rare, unless they had the same ideas on returning favors that Vadderung did. I enjoyed it when it happened, though, and tensed my thighs in anticipation. He bypassed my dick, though, and instead started nibbling the skin where my thigh joined with my groin, and Stars, but his teeth were sharp. I’d never noticed before. He was still staring at me, and there was something hazy and inhuman in his eyes.  I wondered if I was about to see what sort of demon he really did have as a part of himself, and I was actually a little curious, but then his nails scraped harshly down my thighs, left thick red welts, and I lost my train of thought in a keening groan.

Kincaid laughed around the flesh of my thigh, laughed as he lifted up my legs and folded them up, laughed and laughed and laughed as he continued to nip and bite and mark. Mab would be… Mab. She’d be herself. She’d be upset by the marks, like always. She’d remove them. She’d replace them with her own. She’d bind me so tightly that I’d forget I was bound, she’d give me so much that I’d forget all I’d lost, she’d immerse me in ugliness until it became beauty, until I forgot what beauty was, until this was all that was left. Kincaid gifted me with a quick swipe of his tongue over my cock and I promptly forgot what I’d been thinking about as he lifted up my legs, as he folded them up, up, up, and oh.

                His tongue touched at my entrance, gentle, an almost teasing pressure. It was… I don’t know what it was. The sick, squirming feeling overcame me for a second when he actually got his tongue in me, but it fled quickly because he knew what he was doing, because I’d grown more used to this. The Erlking had had a particular fondness for it. I guessed Kincaid shared it. That made enough sense, plenty of sense, sense like everything, sense like life. His tongue reached deep and twisted, jabbed expertly, knowing just where to touch, just where to hit. I held my own quivering legs tightly as his own hands dug dark bruises into my ass and it was like nothing else. My toes curled and I whimpered. He groaned and his hands got tighter. It was a cycle, an endless give and take and rob and return. I tipped my head back and I chuckled because it was so, so funny and so, so horrible and if I didn’t laugh I might just have to cry.

                He curled his tongue and hit the spot inside me that I loved; the spot I’d hardly known existed, hardly acknowledged, before Mab sunk her claws into me. He teased it expertly, ceaselessly, as if his jaw knew no pain or tiredness, and I fell apart at the seams, I became putty, I went limp and pliant and groaned and whimpered mindlessly, let little words like please fall from my mouth in a litany I couldn’t have imagined hardly a year before. I thought about the urges the Mantle had forced on me, the urges to fight and fuck and kill, I thought about how even now I wanted to rip Kincaid’s throat out, how I’d wanted to rip all their throats out for touching me, for degrading me, and then I thought about how Mab was the only one I didn’t feel that way towards, because Mab was bigger than me. My throat was the one that’d get ripped out if I disobeyed, if I didn’t bow to whoever she wanted me to bow to, and besides, the part of me that was still me, still human, thought it felt good. That part found comfort in it. I often retreated to that part of myself and tried to forget that Winter ran through my veins like bitter, frozen blood. Kincaid slid his tongue out and I released a pathetic noise in response, begged him to put his tongue back, but he shook his head.

                Instead, he slipped two fingers, one from each of his hands, inside of me and spread me open wide. I gasped and it turned into a stilted, surprised moan. He smirked up at me, his eyes lidded and animal, totally out of control. I could hardly imagine him as the cool man I usually knew.

                “That good, Dresden? You like that? Come on, Dresden, scream, let me hear it. Show our audience outside that fucking door how good you’re feeling.” Audience? What audience? I couldn’t speak, though, couldn’t manage to force the words out. All I could do was let my legs go limp and whine and murmur and groan. “Scream,” he told me, and another finger slid inside me and then all three of them were stretching me out wide. I finally did what he told me, I screamed. It was a keening noise, and I noted that he’d removed the finger from one of his hand and put in the one from the other. The stretch was nearly painful, anyway, but not the worst I’d ever felt. The scream had cracked my voice and now every sound I made came out hoarse.

                The fingers finally stopped spreading, though, instead just worked to get me open. Every now and then they found the place to make me see sparks, but generally he seemed to avoid it. His newly freed hand twisted around my dick but it was done so lightly that I hardly felt it, at that point. I felt like we’d lain there like that for hours, but finally his fingers slid free only to have a blunt pressure replace them. My toes curled and he pressed totally inside me with one quick, strong move. I’d have screamed again if I could’ve, and as it stood I let loose some kind of broken, aborted noise I couldn’t name. Kincaid seemed to like it either way because he grabbed my hips and started moving me in counterpoint to his thrusts. Something started hitting the door rhythmically. I ignored it, couldn’t even bring myself to think about what it could’ve been, and finally Kincaid started to strike my prostate. I heard the door frame splintering right when my legs were tightening up and I was coming and Kincaid did the same with a groan and a sharp nip to my shoulder.

                My head tilted back and I saw him there, Marcone, saw him gazing down at me with come on my belly and Kincaid was slowly sliding out of me. More dripped down my thighs and ass as Kincaid breathed heavily and rocked up to his feet. I didn’t bother moving.

                “Little late to the party, Marcone. If you want him it’s going to be a while. He’s all fucked out, from what I can tell.” I shut my eyes and only distantly heard the sound of flesh striking flesh. Admittedly I fell asleep. I woke up about two or three hours later in my own bed with no idea how the hell I ended up there.

* * *

 

Lea’s POV

                I found Mr. Marcone in his office nursing a black eye and a jaw that he was lucky hadn’t been fractured. He didn’t even jump when I appeared in the room, as a testament to how simply different he was from the other mortals my dearest godson once associated with. Instead, he gave me the best smile he could have at the moment, and was unable to hide the slight twinge of pain the action caused him.

                “There is no need for thou to fake thou pleasure, Mr. Marcone. I recognize thou pain and I see through thou mask; I am Sidhe. No mortal has a mask capable of blocking mine eye.” He dropped the smile and sighed.

                “There is also no need for you to put up a veneer of politeness and proper speech to hide that you’re upset with me. I did what I was able to do; I can’t force him to go with me if he chooses not to. I’m trying to give him choice, not take more away from him.” I laughed.

                “I am not angered with you, Mr. Marcone. Not truly, although it was quite idiotic of you to strike the Hound of Hell merely for enjoying his prize. That is why you began to work with me, isn’t it, Mr. Marcone? I can look at it in such a way despite not liking it. You call it your mortal words and try to apply your mortal ideas and it simply does not work. I told you that simply asking him to come with you would accomplish nothing. He is too certain that he cannot escape my Queen’s hold, Mr. Marcone, too certain that he is lost to the Mantle. Do a favor for my Queen, Mr. Marcone, offer her your loyalty in exchange for use of her knight. Achieve him cruelly and save him kindly, Mr. Marcone, that is all you may do at this point. He will not risk incurring the wrath of my Queen.” He flinched at my words but it was so minute that mortal eyes would not have seen it. He’d become truly adept at mastering his own face and his own body and everything about him was wrapped up so tightly that it was nearly untouchable.

                I liked him. I liked him in a similar way to how I liked my godson. It was an odd sensation; it isn’t often that I like mortals. I like to play with them, yes, I like to tease and twist them into something of an insanity, a frustration, and at times I even like to have them in my bed, but I do not like _them_ often. He was an odd one. He, I knew, was the one capable of taking my godson away from the mess he’d created and saving him, keeping him from damaging himself further. He was the one, I recognized, capable of doing what I had failed in: protecting him.

                “I do not want to have to do that.”

                “If you want him saved you will do what you must. I’m certain he will forgive you the moment he feels the shackles of Winter leave him. He will understand that what you did was necessary; he is not a stupid boy, though he is foolish at times.” He let his head fall into his hand and hissed when he accidentally struck his eye a bit, jostled his jaw.

                “Alright. I’ll write her a letter now, offering my loyalty in exchange for the use of him for an evening. Will that be acceptable?” I smiled.

                “My Queen will be thankful for it, certainly, and the use of her Knight is a common enough boon. Simply keep your language clear and offer no negotiation for what you will take in exchange for your loyalty. I will read it when you are done and offer my opinion. She’ll have him fit for work again by the day’s end, now that I have returned him to his bed.” Marcone took a deep breath, swallowed his tongue, swallowed his thoughts, swallowed every last silly mortal moral compunction and wrote the letter in scrawling script. My eyes raked over it as he wrote and I offered my own words to supplement his, to straighten the language and give my Queen no choice but to accept his bargain, his offer. She’d been becoming steadily warier, recently, about loaning him to her allies now that his newness, his sparkle, were wearing off, but Mr. Marcone would be a good enough investment that she’d be willing to do it. He was also simply a mortal; she’d never guess that he knew the secret he knew, the secret I had allowed to slip from my tongue, the only way to free the Knight of Winter, now that Mab had cleared away the loophole used by Tam Lin.

                I was about to commit treason, I knew that. I also knew that I could be punished with true death, with torture supreme, with things I could not even imagine. I did not care. I had made a promise, long ago, a promise to a woman that I would not break. I had promised to protect her son no matter what, to keep him safe from the ills of the world and her enemies and her debts. I had failed in that endeavor quite often. I would not fail again. Mr. Marcone completed the letter and sealed it. I tucked it away in my dress and left without a word. I would see my godson free and safe before my death; that, at least, I knew for certain. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, here's the last chapter of this, and I shall have a double post next week with two fairytale fics because I so lied and actually there are three more fics before that's over, not just one. I would apologize but that is most definitely not my fault. Anyway. I think what I'm trying to say is that Wednesday is posting day now because that's just easier for me to keep up with than posting just whenever something gets finished, and also lets me get a little bit ahead in regards to chapters and whatnot. I'll start posting the Thomas/Harry fic the week after my double post, do the last fairytale fic once it's done, and then it's time for my Big Bang fic, which I must profess to be super excited about, because oh my god it's so much fun to write. And that's all, I guess. Enjoy the chapter!

                Lea’s hands worked through my hair slowly, the delicate grace of their movements doing little to alleviate the pain at the knots being worked free. I shut my eyes and winced periodically, but beyond that I remained silent. Lea talked enough for the both of us.

                “We must have you looking nice today, my godson, he will be saddened if you come appearing less than your best. Our Queen is displeased, of course, but that is to be expected; she has grown tired of sharing you. This will be the last time, though, I can promise that,” she whispered, and I had no idea what she could mean by that. How would it be the last time? Mab would pawn me out again as soon as it became necessary. I’d been expecting this, though, expecting Marcone to pull off something big enough to get me, although I had no idea what he’d actually done. I had only been told to visit him, after returning from a mission to take down a particularly determined… thing that had been banging at the gates of Arctis Tor. It’d done a number on me, my hair included, thus the reason why I was currently sitting on my bed like a teenage girl with Lea behind me. She finally got the tangles loose enough that a hair brush was conceivable, but it still took another twenty minutes before she was done. I took a shower afterwards and that just tangled it up again, but she didn’t seem to mind brushing it for me.

                Plus, once it dried, she got to bind it up tight in a ponytail for me because Mab still couldn’t be bothered to let me get it cut (I put a stop to her attempts to braid it for me too, even though she pouted at me and told me my mom always let her). It was at least a half inch passed my shoulders now, too, thus the reason why it kept getting so tangled. Really it was a terrible inconvenience, but I was pretty sure Mab hadn’t ever cared if something was inconvenient for me. I stretched and let Lea dress me in something with long sleeves and a high collar so that my recently acquired bruises wouldn’t be immediately visible. I guessed she didn’t want him turned off before he got a chance to get turned on. I laughed a little and opened up my wardrobe. The opening to Chicago was obvious and welcome, so I stepped through. Once more the breeze was pleasant against my face, almost warm despite the season. I walked along mindlessly until I reached the gates of Marcone’s mansion.

                The men standing out there, two large guys who probably had bullet proof vests under their ill-fitting suits, opened the gates for me immediately, and I offered them a sarcastic salute in return. They rolled their eyes at me and I could see in their faces that they thought I hadn’t changed a bit despite my new wardrobe. It made me smirk as I followed them inside and upstairs to Marcone’s office. I realized suddenly that this was the first time I’d ever been inside this place. Marcone smiled at me when I sat down and I nodded in response.

                I’d gotten so tired. Mab had been running me ragged all over the Nevernever and I knew what she was doing, I knew she was trying to pry as much out of me as she could before I died, but my body, bruised and aching, was protesting even more than usual. I almost wished for parties sometimes.

                “Harry,” Marcone told me, his voice level, and I swallowed.

                “Figured you’d come up soon enough. So, what’d you do? Give her some mortal money? She likes that. Maybe mortal troops? You could’ve offered her use of those, if she needed them; mortal force would make her something close to unstoppable against most of her enemies.” I don’t know why I sounded so bitter. It wasn’t like he owed me anything, it wasn’t like he was under any obligation to not take something offered to him. I kept trying to tell myself all of this, but I still felt betrayed, still felt like I was finally done, finally at my end. He sighed.

                “I’m not doing this out of some desire to hurt you, Harry; you’ve seen how I disapprove of this, and you should certainly know that if you do not want this, then you are free to leave at any time and I will have my debt repaid in some other way. This was the only way to get you here though, at least for the length of time necessary. I’m going to set you free today, Harry.” What? No. No, he couldn’t. I was the Winter Knight. There was no ‘free’ anymore, not for me. Blood and bone, that had been my promise. That had been the agreement. Without Winter… what if I was paralyzed again? What if she went after my nearest and dearest? I couldn’t stand that. They didn’t deserve to be faced with that temptation just because I couldn’t stick it out.

                “I’m here until I die, Marcone. If you’re worried about me going after you, well… it won’t be much longer now before I’m gone, so I don’t think you could do anything to piss her off enough to use me in that length of time. There’s not much left, and Mab only has so many messes for me to straighten out. I’m the fix it Knight, you know? I’ll repair everything, I’ll die, and then Mab will get a new one who’s more suited to the job.” He reached out and he shook me roughly, as if his version of sense would come crashing through my head if he just willed it to be there for long enough. “Look, if you want me, you’d better get your piece in now before you can’t anymore, okay? I told you before that you wouldn’t be the worst I’d ever had. Maybe you will be the last, though, except for Mab. I’ll bend over for you but no rituals. It won’t work and it’ll just get Mab pissed at me. I don’t really feel like dealing with her particular brand of torture today. I’m tired.” Something that felt like cool fingertips brushed through my skull and I knew Mab was pleased with the words. Ever aware, always there, always knowing just what I was doing and what I was saying and what was being said to me. I never got to be alone anymore. Marcone looked oddly hurt.

                “Harry, that’s not like you. You would’ve fought, before. You wouldn’t have given up. You never give up.” I felt cold when I laughed. His desperation was a bitter tang in his words.

                “I have been fighting. It’s because I’ve been fighting that I’m still alive. It’s also because I’m fighting that I’m dying. Funny, huh?” He took me by the hand and held it close to him, his warmth cutting through the ice in my skin and my blood.

                “I don’t understand,” he whispered, and I closed my eyes, soaked the heat into myself. The cool fingertips in my skull tightened to claws. She hated it when I felt warm, when I took comfort.

                “I’m fighting her, so the core of me, the part that makes me who I am, is still alive. Because I’m fighting it, though, the Mantle is killing my body. If I gave in the core of me would die, would belong to Mab just like the rest, but my body would live. If I keep fighting on I’ll live for a while, but eventually me and my body will die. Mab doesn’t have a great retirement package,” I said, and he managed a chuckle as he pulled me close over his desk. I could feel him shaking and he whispered as if he thought that would make it so Mab couldn’t hear him.

                “Let me try, Harry. Your Godmother told me what to do. Let me try. If it doesn’t work I’ll take your punishment, whatever she has to give, I’ll take it for you, just let me try.” My own breath wavered at how human he felt, sounded, just then. She’d never given me to a human before. My arms raised and touched his arms, and with the movement something surged in me, something I’d thought to be gone: hope. This was… he’d given me hope again, hope that he could do something. It wasn’t a big one, though, and the risk was... well, enormous.

                “You’re vanilla, John. Her torture would kill you,” I told him, “I’ve felt Winter torture before I became the Knight. I’m not used to it, but I can take it. You don’t understand what you’re offering.” I heard Mab whispering in my skull.

                “Oh, let him try, my Knight; I should like the chance to play with him. Maeve would as well, especially. She loves mortal men like him. He’d come out of it alive, sweet, I’d give my promise there. Perhaps he’d even enjoy it after a time.” I shuddered.

                “I know it won’t work, John. She wants you to try. She also wants you to fail. She and Maeve… they’ll… there isn’t much they won’t do to cause pain. The Sidhe are experts at it.” He turned those eyes, those faded money eyes, up to my face. I didn’t want him to get hurt for me. I could see that he still didn’t understand what I was saying.

                “There is nothing that could hurt me so much as seeing you hurt this way, Harry. Let me help you.” I shut my eyes and felt my hands clutch at him; it wasn’t often that I received offers for help, and I appreciated them when I did no matter who was giving them. The fingertips curled in my head again, and I spoke before I could stop myself.

                “Okay. If you don’t… it you’re willing to risk that, do what you want. I don’t think you understand who you’re crossing, though.” He stood for a moment to direct me around to his side of the desk before he sat again.

                “I find that I don’t really care.” He shifted me and had me straddle his legs even though my bony ass probably hurt his knees or his thighs a little, and when he leaned up to kiss me he did it almost shyly. The contrast of it was like an electric shock, impossible to ignore and filling me up. The urges the Mantle forced through me when this happened were… not there. Quiet. I’d have almost thought I was human again myself had I not heard Mab’s laughter. His palms spread widely across my hips, down towards my ass, and I sighed into his lips. He separated us first, but not much; only about a half inch served as a buffer between us. “Thank you,” he whispered and then he stood, forcing me to do the same, and then we walked.

                He kept our hands clasped and led me down twisting hallways I could have never mapped, through doors that led to still more hallways. The whole place a maze and I remembered the Minotaur’s labyrinth for a second, a pharaoh’s pyramid. For as beautiful as it was outside, the inside of this mansion seemed designed to cause as much confusion and disorientation as possible. I could understand that, though. He saw me looking around and smiled.

                “This is actually a rather new design,” he said, “I found it pertinent to create a bit more of a stronghold here once I became the baron. I had to brick off quite a lot of the house, but everything is still accessible if one knows where to go.”

                “John, I went nigh on a decade in an apartment with one interior door, and we piss off about the same number of people, or so I would guess. I don’t think you needed a maze in your house.” He smiled and finally we walked through a clean wooden door that opened up into a bedroom. That much was expected. What was unexpected, though, was the ritual circle on the wide, soft looking bed, done in something gold with runes even I wouldn’t dare play with printed at the five points of a pentacle. I took a deep breath and took a moment to look around the rest of the room. The vanity against one wall had its mirror covered with a sheet. There were no windows, and the door to the bathroom was closed and covered in wards that would keep it that way. Another circle surrounded the bed, this one made of some sort of metal and set into the hardwood floor. It put off a soft, nearly invisible silver light. From inside my head, Mab’s laughter stopped cold and an angry headache sprouted up in the back of my skull. Something about this set up pissed her off, obviously, and she hissed.

                She wanted me to leave, I could tell that, she wanted me to walk out, but it seemed she couldn’t speak. I felt suddenly very warm. Marcone must have seen something on my face, something that made him happy, because he beamed.

                “Is she silenced?” I swallowed.

                “Yeah. Hell’s Bells, John, what is this? You said Lea told you how to do this?” He nodded and turned to me, his fingers working my shirt open with ease even though I detected a very slight waver in them.

                “Yes. She wants you free too, Harry. She tells me constantly of her failure to protect you, of how she wished that she could have saved you. She also tells me that she feels that I will be the one to correct her failures.” The fingertips trailed down my chest and pressed lightly into some of my newest bruises. A particularly brilliant one on my ribs flared up with new pain as he touched it, but I didn’t show it. I’d been trained well and I laughed. My legs, though, were feeling weak and I knew that it was Mab. I could hardly support myself on them so I leaned forward a little to prop myself on John.

                “I hope you’re telling the truth, John. I’m afraid.” I felt him stiffen. His hands stilled. For the first time, I saw shock blatantly on his face. It lasted for only a few seconds, though; after that he just looked more confident than before.

                “You’ve no reason to fear. For once, please let someone else help you. You don’t have to face this on your own.” He started walking me backwards towards the bed. Mab’s presence, her influence, was thrashing in my skull, pissed but muzzled. The Knight in me was screaming in angry agony at the feelings of weakness, helplessness. Its silence of before was no more; it wanted me to kill Marcone where we stood. Mab would’ve approved of it. I ignored them both.

                “I’ve got plenty of reason to be afraid. What about my legs? What about my friends? If I get freed who the hell do you think she’s going after next? If I can’t walk who the hell’s going to protect Chicago? I’m scared. I’m scared and I’m tired and I don’t… Hell’s Bells, John, even if this works I don’t know how much good I’ll be. I’m going on empty,” I whispered, my head leaning down to press into the curve of his neck. He lay me down in the center of the circle and I took a deep breath as the power started twining around me.

                “You’re as useful as you’ve ever been, Harry. You’ll never be worthless, no matter what you can or cannot do. Now, for this to work, you mustn’t touch yourself or me. Lie there like that and allow me to do everything. The first part of the ritual will transfer your contract to me, and the second will break it entirely.” I could feel that he worried about admitting that. He was certain that I wouldn’t trust him enough to hold my “contract” even for a few moments. I probably shouldn’t trust him that much. He’d been the only one who’d gotten upset at my situation, though, at least upset enough to go up against Mab to get me out. He’d been… at least he was trying, and even if he was lying, even if he kept the contract, he couldn’t be worse than Mab. It’d be a step up no matter how I looked at it. I relaxed under his hands.

                “Thank you,” I whispered, “Thank you. Do what you need to do.” He froze again, for a quick moment, but then he nodded and slid my pants down from my hips. His touch was almost gentle enough to hurt, so I shut my eyes and just sighed. He pinched and tweaked one of my nipples with his hand and his mouth descended on the other, and suddenly all the ice in my body melted. Everything was soft and fuzzy for the first time in a long time and I thought that maybe everything would be okay. His free hand curled around my dick and worked at it until I got fully hard. I could hear my breath slipping harshly from my throat and he murmured around my skin. It sounded like some kind of platitude, as if he were calming me, but I didn’t need it. I wished I could touch him but I didn’t want to ruin the ritual so I curled my fists into the bedcovers. Mab and the Mantle both seemed to be drifting farther and farther away as John moved his mouth and I opened my eyes. Silver and golden light were both threading around us, encasing us in a cocoon of warm light. The symbols felt almost hot against my back and hands. This was working and I laughed, the joy a strange, foreign thing pressing against my chest. John laughed too.

                “Christ, Harry, so perfect. Beautiful, just fucking gorgeous,” he mumbled, apparently vulgar in pleasure, “I want to give you the world. Everything. I want… you deserve better than this, better than glorified slavery. I love you, Harry, I love you.” He said it like a chant, like a spell, as if both of our worlds would fall perfectly into place if he just told me that enough.

                “I made the deal, John, don’t… don’t think I’m some martyr for that. You shouldn’t blame Mab for offering me the one thing I couldn’t refuse,” I mumbled because I didn’t want him to act like I was forced into this place, as if it wasn’t by my own will. I had made my own bed and damn if I hadn’t lain in it. I shouldn’t be doing this now, I knew that, but I was selfish and I was desperate and I didn’t want to die, I didn’t want to become a monster. I closed my eyes against the warm light again.

                “You’re a good man,” he told me, “You’re a good man who has been faced with impossible choices. There isn’t always a right or a wrong choice, Harry; sometimes there’s only one that’s bad and one that’s worse. I think you’ve always done the best you could with what you were faced with, Harry, and you made this one choice under duress for a good thing, to save someone you loved.” His hands moved to my legs and carefully spread them a little more, so he could reach whatever he wanted to reach. I felt limp and pliant and loose. Warm, always warm. I sighed out a laugh.

                “And how many people did I damn by doing that, John, by being selfish? I saved someone I love, yeah, but I deprived a lot of other people of folks they loved. I made anarchy in South America. I nearly destroyed Chicago. I’m not a good man. Maybe I never have been. Maybe you fell in love with an illusion and a misconception.” He laughed back at me, his touch feather light against the inside of my thighs.

                “I fell in love with a fool. I fell in love with a man who has never looked in a mirror in his life. I fell in love with a man who judges his own soul when he has never even seen it. I fell in love with a man who is far too humble, and perhaps a bit damaged. I fell in love with you, Harry, everything about you, the good and the bad and the terrible, the things you try to be and the things you cannot help but be. I am certainly not perfect, and I do not expect you to be, know that you cannot be, and yet I can’t help but think you’ve come as close to perfection as anyone I’ve met yet.” I felt for a moment as if I were in a romance novel and that made me snicker. It was nice to have so much that I thought was so funny, again. I’d missed laughing.

                “You’re such a dumbass, bastard,” I told him because there was little else to say. “A pure, unadulterated dumbass.” He laughed and then we were pretty quiet because his fingers had found what they’d been questing for, had managed to slide inside of me. It was a fight to stay still, but I’m a Wizard; I’ve been able to control my body perfectly since I was thirteen.

                Now, this might seem strange, or even a little offensive, but the best part of this, of John, was how mundane it was. John and I were human, John especially. There was nothing magical or mythical about him. Everything he did to me was out of love, or something like it, out of a desire to bring me pleasure. All my other partners, it had been about lust, about power, about loyalty. I’d missed this too. He slid another finger in and spread them, then stopped cold when I gasped.

                “Are you alright? Have I hurt you?” I snorted.

                “I’m fine, go on. I’ve had a lot more than this, recently. You’re fine, you’re… Stars and Stones, John,” I whispered, and I felt tears beading in my eyes. I felt him starting to remove his fingers and shook my head, a watery grin splitting my face. Everything he’d done, all the nice things he’d said, the care and the respect and the thoroughness, it all hit me at once. None of the others had been this way. John was… special, I guess. He’d always been trying to help me. I hadn’t felt genuine love like this, steadfast and permanent and determined and unyielding, so closely in a long time. It made me miss my friends even more. I’d have a lot to fix, soon.

                “Harry if you’re hurting I’ll stop for a bit,” he said, and his free hand moved to wipe my eyes, “You don’t have to push through it for me, I’ve waited for a decade. I can stand to wait a few moments longer.” I laughed but it sounded more like a hiccup.

                “Damn it, John, it feels good. You feel good. I’m crying because you’re being so nice to me, you fucking bastard.” He chose that moment to offer me his own smile and this his fingers started to work again, caressing inside me, crooking just a little, pressing against the place that made me see stars fleetingly, apparently just to find where it was, and then going elsewhere. It was a tease, a flickering, light motion, and I let myself get lost in it.

                “I love you,” he told me again, and the third finger went in. His other hand twisted and worked at my dick, as if I was in pain, as if I needed to be worked through it.

                “I know. I should’ve known for longer. I should’ve… you’ve always been there, always, especially after I turned to Winter. You’ve always helped me. I’ve never thanked you for it, John. I’m thanking you now. I think… I don’t know, John, but maybe I love you too.” I’d never thought I’d see so much bare emotion on his face, never thought I’d see the old money of his eyes turn crisp and new again, but just then I did. He’d never looked more alive, more human, to me than he did at that moment. It was magic, pure mortal magic; magic anyone could see and do.

                “I’m going to start a chant, Harry, when I’m inside you. Stay still through it, alright? When I fall silent I would like you to roll us so that you are on top and finish us both off, alright? That will transfer your contract back to yourself, and the ritual will be complete.” I nodded and his fingers slid away. He picked up my legs and placed them over his shoulders, and then, in one swift move, he pushed inside of me. He wasn’t the biggest and he wasn’t the thickest and he wasn’t the longest and hell, he probably wasn’t even the best, but I enjoyed that moment more than any of the others combined because he was doing this because he cared about me and I was letting him because I was pretty sure I cared about him too. I realized that I hadn’t felt anything relating to Winter in my head or my body since I’d last thought of it.

                Words began to fall from John’s mouth as he moved, words I didn’t know the meaning of but words whose power I felt deeply, instinctually. They were ancient words, Sidhe words, words not meant to fall from mortal lips, but John spoke them as if he’d done it all his life. His thrusts were languid and slow, too shallow, and I guessed he was probably trying to keep himself from coming before he was supposed to. I don’t know for how long we lay there like that, his words sliding over my skin and his body gently pressing into mine, but it felt like forever. Then I felt it; his words heaved up to a crescendo and I realized that all he’d have to do to keep me would be to hold me down but he wouldn’t and the fact that I trusted that shocked the hell out of me.

                Winter was being stripped from me; I could almost see it, the electric blue being pulled from my chest, mixing into the cocoon surrounding us, fading away and going… somewhere. The next closest vessel of Winter. I worried over who it would be for a second, and then I saw something else flowing beside the electric blue, a thin red string, and it was flowing towards John, around John, into John. Then the words stopped and the little string tied itself around him in a neat little bow. I surged up with him still inside me and he let me. When we settled his cock was deeper in me and I whined low in my throat, unsteady and maybe keening. He fell totally still and silent. I bounced experimentally and watched the string untying.

                I realized at that moment that I was going to be free, my own man, once more. I was going to belong to myself. The thought made me scream out my triumph, my triumph over Mab, my triumph over the whole damned world and I laughed as I clenched around John and got to my knees, bounced myself up and down on him. I wrapped my hand around myself and jerked while I did it and John’s eyes were fixed on me as if I were an idol, a deity. I felt in control for the first time since Mab and the Stone Table. I came on my almost before I realized I was doing it, a groan ripping from my throat to linger in the air. The little red string was wrapped totally around me instead of John, now, and as the cocoon of light overhead faded it drifted into my skin. John came, hot and hard and almost too much, inside of me and I fell limply against his chest. His hand came up and caressed my sweaty hair as he softened and slid out of me. I pressed a soft kiss to his chest and fell asleep without meaning to, thoughts of my freedom twisting madly in my skull, now nearly impossible to decipher.

* * *

 

                When I woke up, I was in the same bedroom except for I and the bed had been cleaned, and I’d been put into a set of baggy pajama bottoms that bared my ankle and part of my calf. I was still on John’s chest, though. Really the primary difference was probably that Lea was standing over the bed and when I look back on it, that’s actually pretty creepy. I think I’ve gotten used to way too much weirdness, honestly. She was smiling, though, and I guess she looked kind enough even though her teeth are a little too sharp and her eyes are way too bright.

                “My godson,” she whispered, “My child. I am pleased that you have managed to obtain your freedom, and that you have found your happiness and your protector. I should hope that he performs better than I.” I glanced over at John and found that he slept. “He will not wake while I am here, child, don’t worry over it.” I blinked and nodded.

                “Oh. Uh, you told him what to do, right? Thank you.”

                “I only hope that doing so was enough to fulfill my promise to your mother and my obligation to you. I care for you, child, proper or not. I suppose it’s a product of familiarity. I would not see you in chains for long, sweet.” I laughed.

                “You’re my godmother, Lea, I care about you too. Even though it’s really stupid of me. You’ll get in trouble for telling him what you did though, won’t you?” I don’t think I’d ever seen her shrug before that moment. Apparently everyone had decided that now, of all times, would be the best time to start showing me humanity. Life just isn’t fair sometimes.

                “I shall cross that bridge when I reach it, child. Your life is more important to me now than my own. I have certainly lived for long enough. You’ve quite a lot left to go and I shan’t see you cut it short.” I swallowed thickly and felt my fists clench a little in John’s own pajama top (how long had I been there, anyway? What time was it?).

                “Who… where did the Mantle go?” she shook her head.

                “No one you know. A changeling who has yet to choose from the next city over. Mab will… she will be displeased with him, but he will serve well enough until she finds another. Your friends are as safe as they ever were, child.” I don’t want to admit how happy that made me, the fact that my friends had escaped my fate, even though the guilt at confining another to that fate was… gnawing, to say the least of it. “Have you any other questions for me?”

                “Will you be safe?” She almost winced, or at least I’m pretty sure she did.

                “What an odd question. I have been safer, of course, and yet I’ve been in more danger as well. My queen will be angered with me for certain, and yet I have done things that have made her angrier. I will not be killed, I do not think, but I will likely be hurt. Perhaps she’ll have me in the garden again. She has oft told me that I am far more pleasurable to the eye and the ear when I am made silent and still.” I stood up suddenly and wrapped her in a tight hug. Lea had always been weird about loving me, caring for me, but she loved me nonetheless. She did what she felt was best for me, she always had. She was the closest thing to a mother I’d ever known, strange as it sounds, and generally I found myself loving her as one. Still, it was a shock when she returned my grip, her inhumanly lovely, alien face going soft and almost reachable, and her golden cat eyes closing. She pressed a tiny kiss to my forehead. “I am afraid that I must leave now, my godson. Give me your word that you will stay safe for me. I do not wish to consider you hurt after I have risked so much to save you.”

                “I’ll do my best,” I told her, and that was the best I could manage without worrying that I’d be lying. She seemed to realize that because she nodded. She offered a single pat to my head before she was gone. I’d only just managed to crawl back into the bed when John awoke.

                He had a soft, lazy smile on his face for half a second before it was replaced with stark worry. I raised my eyebrows and he wiped my eyes again. Damn it.

                “Harry?”

                “Lea came by. She risked a lot by telling you what she did. I’m worried about her, and I’m guilty because I’ve forced someone else into Winter. At least I was there by my own choice.” He took a deep breath, released it in a sigh, and tightened his arm around me.

                “Honey, I know you feel differently from me in this, but I do not know the new Winter Knight. I’ve no connection to the new Knight, he is unimportant to me, and I am simply happy that I have you freed. I cannot say that this new Knight will be alright because I do not know, but I do know that it will serve you little to worry about it so excessively. We will deal with it if we must, yes? If it seems he will face what you have, we can find someone willing and able to take the job; they are most certainly out there. If we locate one that Mab likes, I’m certain she’d be willing to exchange them without a need for injury.” He was too damned logical, honestly. I hated that about him, sometimes, and those words shouldn’t have helped me feel better, but they kind of did. I took a deep breath.

                “Thank you,” I mumbled, as if that would really mean anything now. “And don’t call me honey. I’m not your girlfriend.” He smirked.

                “Yes, I believe you proved that sufficiently about three hours ago. I am suffering from no delusions that you are female.” I snorted. What a weird world. I was glad to be a part of it again, though, glad to be alive. I was glad that I could have this second chance, keep living, keep breathing, keep… being. I smiled. I’d make the most of it, this second second chance I’d gotten. I turned my gaze to John and had to smile again because this was… I could be okay and he could help me. There were a lot of bridges left to cross and a lot more left to mend but he could help me. Maybe that would be enough. I could only hope. He pressed a kiss to my lips and I returned it and I couldn’t help but think again that maybe I did love him too. Hell’s Bells, my life is weird.  


End file.
